The End of Days
by dansemacabre
Summary: 19 year old Sarah believes the Labyrinth is behind her, nothing more than a childish fantasy. When she realizes her adventures were real, how far will she go to save the Labyrinth... or the Goblin King who rules it? JS. COMPLETE.
1. Chapter 1: Home for the Holidays

_**Summary:** Nineteen-year old Sarah is back home from college over Christmas vacation, and she's long given up on the Labyrinth and her friends as being just another fantasy she's outgrown. But when Hoggle appears in her mirror with a plea for help, she's dragged back to the Underground. Dire things are happening in the Labyrinth, and Sarah might be the only one who can save it... and the Goblin King.  
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_**Disclaimer:** I do not own the Labyrinth or any of the original characters or ideas that appeared in the movie._

_**Rating:**__This is story is rated** M** for what happens in later chapters. Please read at your own risk and discretion.  
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**Chapter One: Home for the Holidays  
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In the still darkness of her room, Sarah turned restlessly in bed. Through her window she could see the half moon and the spidery outline of tree branches across its silver face, like a network of fine cracks on a porcelain vase. She never imagined it would be so difficult to sleep in her old room, surrounded by the posters and books that had been so long familiar to her. But Sarah missed the noise of her college dorm: the faint sound of someone's stereo down the hall, the shuffling of footsteps in the hallway. It was never truly silent, there was always something going on and someone moving only doors away. She'd found that oddly reassuring.

Not like here, Sarah thought with mild irritation. Not that she wasn't happy to be home for Christmas break. She'd missed her father and Toby, who tackled her knees in a fierce hug as soon as she stepped in the door. Even Karen had eased up a bit, she thought. Or maybe being out of the house and having her own space made her stepmother's constant nitpicking and fussing a little easier to bear. Whatever else happened, Sarah knew she could always go back to college, back to her classes and her quiet room full of books.

Downstairs, the hall clock struck one. Sarah sat up in bed, turning on the small reading light clipped to her headboard. It was no use, sleep would not come to her anytime soon. She rummaged for her book on the nightstand, a historical thriller about Vlad the Impaler, intending to read until she fell asleep. Its unwieldy bulk evaded her grasp and slid to the floor with a soft thump. Instead, her hand fell upon a slim volume bound with red leather and embossed with gold lettering. Her fingers traced the title's ornate script, which read, "Labyrinth".

"That's odd," Sarah murmured, "I don't remember getting this old thing out..."

Her voice sounded oddly hollow in the silence of her room, and Sarah immediately felt silly for talking to herself. Still, it _was_ odd. She would've sworn it was packed away in her closet, in a box of things she'd outgrown, but couldn't bear to throw away. The book fell open in her hand to a familiar spot, and Sarah's eyes went automatically to the lines she'd loved to read:

_"Through dangers untold and hardships unnumbered,  
I have fought my way to the castle beyond the goblin city,  
to take back the child you have stolen..."  
_  
Despite the warm blankets piled up on her bed, Sarah shivered. Now the warm glow of her reading lamp seemed inadequate, and it threw sinister shadows that lurked in the corners of her room. It had been five years since her adventures in the Labyrinth, and life had returned to an almost eerie normalcy. She still got angry at Toby for playing with her things, still fought with her stepmother about everything from clothes to punctuality. And yet, things had gotten a little easier somehow. Sarah never threw a tantrum about babysitting her little brother again, and even Karen had to admit that she was finally growing up. The years passed quickly, but it seemed long when she thought back to that night. Sometimes, Sarah wasn't sure if the Labyrinth had really happened or if it had all been some wild dream.

That is, until several weeks ago. It began a month before final exams, troubling dreams Sarah first dismissed as mere stress. She'd wake up with her alarm clock, images of crumbling stone walls still lingering in her mind. The scenes that came to her in her sleep were strangely desolate... ruined gardens with marble statues fallen to pieces, pathways overgrown with thorny vines. She dreamed of a vast wasteland with cracked, pitted earth and dead trees that leaned in the wind like skeletal old men. When she could no longer shrug it off as anxiety over her grades, she had an uneasy thought. If the Labyrinth was more than just her over-stimulated imagination, was it... calling to her? Sarah didn't like that idea at all.

Downstairs, the hall clock chimed the half hour. Her hand tightened on the red book, laying almost forgotten in her lap. It was a childish fantasy, nothing more. Oh, she'd tried using the mirror a few times in the days and weeks after that night, but nothing and no one ever appeared. Hoggle, Ludo and Sir Didymus had never returned. Sarah felt hurt at first, then angry at herself for being so silly. Living in a fantasy-land, head in the clouds... She was tired of hearing herself described that way. Before she left for college, she took down the posters and toys, giving some to Toby and packing some away. The Labyrinth book had gone into her closet, reluctantly wedged down between her music box and scrapbook, and she'd forgotten all about it. And yet, here it was again, lying next to her. Sarah banished the feelings of unease that crept up on her. Karen had been in her room to prepare for Sarah's homecoming, airing out the bed, putting out a vase of evergreen branches and holly on the desk. Maybe her stepmother had dug out the old book and laid it on the nightstand, knowing Sarah's habit of late-night reading. Maybe.

Sarah could feel her eyelids growing heavy, and she reached over and switched off the lamp. The book was still beside her. While she wanted to shove it off the bed onto the floor, she didn't dare. She couldn't shake the odd feeling that if she did, an unseen hand would snatch it out of the air to keep it from falling. Sarah couldn't bear that possibility, that there would be no soft noise as it landed on the carpet. She left it where it lay, almost black in the moonlight.

* * *

"Are you all right? You look as if you didn't sleep well." Sarah's stepmother Karen eyed her warily as she poured a bowl of Cheerios for Toby, who was bouncing up and down on his seat, still in his pajamas. She wiped her hands on a dish towel, exchanging glances with her husband.

"I didn't. But I'll be okay."

"Did your exams go all right? You haven't said a word..." began Karen.

"They went okay."

Her father folded his paper and set it down on the table. "Sarah, you'd tell us if anything was wrong, wouldn't you?"

"Too much studying, not enough fresh air." muttered Karen, scrubbing the kitchen table so hard the plates rattled. "It's just as I've been saying--"

"I'm _fine." _ Sarah gulped down her orange juice before her stepmother could start in on the importance of vitamins. "Just a little tired, that's all."

"You can go back to bed for a few more hours if you want." said her father. "After all, you're on holiday. "

Toby had been ignoring them all and playing with his breakfast, but now he pushed away his bowl. "Sarah promised she'd take me to the park today."

"So I did." Sarah smiled weakly at her little brother. "We can go after lunch."

* * *

Even in the early afternoon, the park was nearly empty and snow lay in pristine drifts between the bare trees. Sarah wrapped her scarf a little tighter around her ears, for once silently thanking Karen for her incorrigibly practical gifts. This had been an early Christmas present, a soft cashmere in a deep red color that contrasted with Sarah's black hair and pale skin. Toby had promptly dubbed her Snow White, reminding her of the Grimm's fairy tales they'd read together about the princess whose lips were as red as blood. There were no Disneyfied kiddie's tales for Toby, he loved his fairytales full of gore and violence and seemed particularly amused by the ones containing wicked step-mothers. Sarah diplomatically refrained from comment.

"Pull faster, Sarah!" Toby sat back in his sled as his sister hauled him over the hiking path that led deeper into the woods. He carefully hoarded a pile of pinecones in his lap, trailing a mittened hand alongside the sled.

"Just to the pond, and then we turn around, okay?"

Sarah had tried to go back to bed, but couldn't sleep. The Labyrinth book had been safely tucked away in her dresser drawer beneath her winter sweaters, but the wind, keening low and constant outside her window, had kept her awake. She hunched down a little further, burying the tip of her nose into the lambswool collar. Toby was bundled up in his bright blue snowsuit so he could barely move, and he teetered precariously back and forth on his sled as she picked up the pace.

"Aren't you cold, Tobe? Dad will have hot chocolate waiting at home for us."

"Faster," demanded Toby, "He's getting away."

Sarah gave him a sharp look, then glanced around the quiet woods. Toby was smarter than most kids his age, but she sometimes worried his overactive imagination would get the better of him. "Who's getting away?"

"The owl, of course. That's who." Toby tossed a pinecone at her and giggled. "Hoo, like an owl. Get it, Sarah?"

"You're a laugh riot, kid."

Sarah tossed a handful of snow at her little brother and started pulling again, but her nerves jangled. An owl? Surely not during the daytime, they were nocturnal... right? And yet, when she scanned the treetops, she could see it. Its mottled brown and white back blended in with the snow on the branches, and it flitted as silently as a ghost from tree to tree barely twenty yards ahead of them. In the immortal words of The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy,_ D__on't panic_, Sarah scolded herself. It doesn't mean anything. These woods are full of animals, and they have to eat whether it's cold out or not.

"Daddy looked it up for me." Toby continued smugly, as if he'd read her thoughts. "He said it was a barn owl."

"Oh?" Sarah tried to think of a way to change the subject, but her brother refused to be distracted. She slowed a bit, reluctant to catch up with the bird. It sat in a large oak tree by the side of the trail, looking back at them with unblinking yellow eyes.

"Barn owls eat mice. He's going to the pond to look for lunch."

"Maybe it's a mommy owl, Toby. Looking for Christmas dinner for her babies."

"Nope." Toby rubbed his nose fiercely with his hand. "It's a boy. Sarah, my nose itches and I can't scratch it with mittens on!"

Sarah sighed and bent over to scratch her brother's nose. "How do you know it's a boy owl?"

His itch taken care of, Toby settled back on the sled and shrugged as best as he could. "I just do."

The pond was just coming into view, its placid surface dusted with a light powdering of snow. The trees came almost up to its very edge, with a narrow path around it and a bench on the far side. In the summer, Toby liked to sit there and pretend he ruled a kingdom by the sea. Sarah hauled the sled to a stop in a drift of snow-covered leaves and took a look around. The owl had winged its away across in the woods beyond. She sighed again, this time in relief.

"I'd pull you around the pond, but it's getting late, Toby. Karen will expect us back home soon. You know how she fusses when we're late."

Toby nodded in understanding and heaved himself up off the sled. Even as a five year old, he was very familiar with his mother's moods.

"I can walk back, Sarah. Are you tired?"

"A little bit." She smiled down at him and tucked in the blond curls that had escaped his hood. "I didn't sleep well last night."

"You'll have to sleep tonight," Toby reminded her emphatically, "Or Santa Claus won't come."

Sarah rolled her eyes. "I'll be sure not to ruin it for all of us. Come on, kid, let's go home."

She took her little brother's hand and turned the sled around, careful not to spill the remaining pinecones. On the way back to the house, Toby chattered nonstop about helping to bake cookies and how they'd decorate the tree that night. Sarah listened with half an ear, casting the occasional glance behind them. The woods were reassuringly empty. They'd just crossed the small stone bridge when Toby quieted abruptly and looked up, all excited.

"There he is, Sarah!"

"Hah, nice try, Toby. Santa Claus isn't coming until tonight, and he doesn't visit rotten little boys who try to trick their sisters..."

A muffled rush of wings made her look up, where the barn owl was quickly closing in on them from above. Sarah gasped and ducked, pulling Toby underneath her and covering her head with her hands. The owl veered at the last minute, so close she thought she could feel its wingtips brush her cheek. As quickly as it had appeared, it was gone, disappearing into the pale winter sky. Fat snowflakes started to swirl down around them and Sarah blinked against the cold bite of the wind on her face, her scarf unwound and hanging loosely around her neck.

"You're squashing me, Sarah!" complained Toby, spitting out a mouthful of snow.

"Sorry, Tobe. I didn't want you to get hurt, that's all." She hauled him back to his feet and brushed off his snowsuit.

"He wouldn't have hurt us," he said scornfully, "Owls don't eat people, silly."

But Sarah had paused in mid-brush as something caught her eye, and she bent down took closer. Lying in the snow at her feet was a peach pit. It was unmistakable. This time of year, peaches at the grocery store were hard as rocks, and tasted like cardboard, but this... this still smelled of warm summers and perfume-laden breezes blowing through an orchard. The wind had picked up again, and for just a moment, she thought she could hear mocking laughter. It was a while before Sarah could breathe again.

"What's wrong?" Toby squinted up at her, his blue eyes narrowing in concern.

Feeling foolish, Sarah scooped up the peach pit and shoved it in her pocket. "Just dropped my change, that's all. Come on, Toby. I'm freezing!"

* * *

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Author's Note: This is my first piece of fan fiction ever. I never really intended to write any, it was just an impulsive thing because I wanted to see if I could do it. If anyone's interested (or hell, even if you're not) I'll try my best to update regularly, but I'm a natural procrastinator, so I can't make any promises. I should also warn you that brevity isn't one of my strong points, so the beginning is bound to be slow and the chapters will probably be long. Comments/reviews are welcome._

**_Edited to add: _**_Despite my concerns about fighting off procrastination and writer's block to make regular updates, that hasn't been much of a problem so far. Additional chapters have been added at a fairly speedy rate (especially for me) and I update roughly once every 1.5-2 weeks, often sooner._**_  
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	2. Chapter 2: The Night Before Christmas

_Author's Note: Thank you to everyone who left comments. I wasn't sure how many people would see what I wrote, so it's nice to get some feedback. Yes, this chapter is even longer than the first. I didn't plan it that way, but there didn't seem to be a good stopping place. The story is progressing slowly, but surely...  
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**Chapter Two: The Night Before Christmas**

"There you are!" Sarah's father poked his head out of the kitchen when Sarah and Toby came in the front door. "We were about to give up on you two. Did you have fun?"

"Yes!" said Toby, struggling as his mother tried to peel off his snowsuit. "Sarah took me to the pond, and we saw--"

Sarah rushed to interrupt. "There was hardly anyone else out, we had the whole park to ourselves. And Toby found some pinecones, didn't you, Toby?"

"Well, it's no wonder." huffed Karen. "It's barely twenty degrees out, and you two were gone for three hours. Your father and I were afraid you'd catch your death of cold. Don't deny it, Robert! I saw you, looking out the window every ten minutes. Come on, I've got hot chocolate waiting on the stove."

Toby ran ahead to the kitchen, his blond hair sticking up in damp spikes. Behind him, he dropped a trail of pinecones. Karen lingered to pick them up. She glanced over at Sarah sitting on the stairs to take off her wet socks.

"I want to thank you for taking Toby to the park," she said quietly. "He's been looking forward to you coming home for weeks, and hasn't been able to talk about anything else. Sarah, I know we haven't always gotten along, but... I'm glad you're home for Christmas." She squeezed Sarah's shoulder gently before retreating to the kitchen without waiting for a reply.

Sarah watched her leave in surprise. Karen had been going a little easier on her lately, but this was the first time she'd ever expressed being happy at having Sarah in the house. That was mostly her own fault, Sarah thought ruefully. She hadn't made Karen feel very welcome either when she'd married her father seven years ago. She'd been twelve then, still angry about her mother leaving them for Los Angeles and a career in acting. Sarah loved her mother, but Linda Williams was more a distant dream, a glamorous star she mostly saw in movies and on television. Karen had been the one who stayed home to take care of her and Toby, to be there at school plays and meetings, driving Sarah to theater rehearsals and making sure she did her homework. Karen did all the things Sarah wished her mother had done. And for that, she had resented the hell out of her step-mother for years.

Her father came from the kitchen and handed her a mug of hot chocolate. "Aren't you going to join us? Toby wants to decorate his pinecones to hang on the tree tonight."

"Thanks Dad, but... Actually, that nap sounds pretty good to me right about now."

"Wore you out, did he?" Robert Williams grinned at his daughter. "He's a real handful, that one. I'm proud of the way you're able to take care of him. I know it hasn't been easy for you."

Sarah took a sip of her cocoa and warmed her hands on the sides of the mug. "He's a good kid." she admitted. "I didn't always like having him around, but he's more fun now that he can talk and doesn't cry all the time."

"You're improving with age too, princess." said her father. "Although it's always hard, watching your little girl grow up."

"Daaad..."

"I know, I know. No mushy talk." Robert gave her a hug. "Get yourself on upstairs, we'll wake you when dinner's ready."

* * *

Maybe Karen had a point about fresh air, thought Sarah as she changed into a pair of pale blue flannel pajamas. Between that and the hot chocolate, she was drowsy again and looked forward to catching up on her sleep. She drew the curtains and buried herself in the bed. Just before she drifted off to sleep, she noticed that the Labyrinth book was back on her nightstand, looking as if it belonged there.

"Sarah?"

Sarah didn't stir.

"Please, Sarah. Can you hear me?"

This time, Sarah turned sleepily. "Is it dinner time already?" She reached down to pull her blanket up over her head.

"Sarah, it's me. Wake up!"

She opened her eyes, expecting to find Toby standing over her bed. No one was there. Sarah dragged herself up and opened her bedroom door. The smell of pot roast drifted up from downstairs, and she could hear the TV on and Toby laughing. The hallway was empty, and she shut the door, puzzled. _I must be really tired,_ Sarah thought. _And I'm beginning to hallucinate, too._ She turned to go back to bed, but realized something odd. The mirror over her vanity table was cloudy, as if a fog had drifted across it. As she stared at it, a strange, weathered brown face appeared, brown eyes blinking near-sightedly over a hooked nose. Sarah gasped.

"Hoggle!"

"Sarah? Are you there?"

"Hoggle, I'm here." She rushed to the mirror, but didn't dare to touch it. "What... what are you doing? You're real!"

"'Course I'm real." The little man drew back, offended. "That's a fine way to greet a friend."

"I'm sorry, I... I thought I was dreaming." she finished lamely. Her mind reeled. She knew she wasn't dreaming, she'd just pinched herself. Hoggle was real. That meant all of it was real, even the Labyrinth, even--

"You are." Hoggle said, matter-of-factly. "Or at least, you were. It's the only way we could reach you without you calling for us. And you haven't called for a long time."

"I was away at college, and this is the first time I've been home..."

"It doesn't matter." Hoggle's voice was sad. "But it means you don't know what's happened. We need you, Sarah. We need you back in the Labyrinth."

"Why would you need me there? What's wrong?" Sarah sank down into her chair, gripping the edge of the table.

"Things...aren't the same as they was. I can't say much more, and maybe I've said too much already." Hoggle glanced anxiously behind him. "You can't be too careful. Someone's always watching in the Labyrinth. _He_ may be watching."

"He?" Sarah aimed for a casual tone, but even to her ears it came out strained and anxious.

"He said no one was to know, especially not you, but... The Labyrinth needs you, Sarah. You have to come, right away."

"It's Christmas," began Sarah, "I can't just leave here, my family will notice and--"

"I wouldn't ask if it weren't important." Hoggle broke in. Worry lines creased his forehead and he wrung his hands involuntarily. Sarah could see he still wore the plastic bracelet she'd given him. "But you're the only one who can help us now."

"Hoggle, I--"

"Ludo is sick. Very sick, the healer can't do anything. If you don't come, he may not make it."

Sarah was aghast. "Ludo's _dying_?"

"I don't know, I don't know." Hoggle was near tears. "Nothing in the Labyrinth dies, not really. But that's how things used to be. Things have changed. I'd tell you more if I could, Sarah, but I can't. You'll understand it when you come here. Please, just say you will!"

"All right, of course I will." Sarah was still confused. "Just let me get dressed."

"There's no time. You must come now!" Hoggle reached forward and grasped her hand.

Suddenly, Sarah found herself standing knee-deep in a wading pool in the gardens outside the Labyrinth, still holding Hoggle's hand and still in her flannel pajamas. A tiny fairy buzzed around her face, as delicate as blown glass with a face like a flower. She swatted it angrily before it could bite her.

"Hoggle! How did you do that?"

Hoggled was equally amazed. "I didn't know I could. You said you'd come... You aren't mad, are you?"

"I guess not. But I haven't had time to prepare or anything. I don't even have shoes on!" Sarah clambered out of the pool, tiny goldfish scattering in her wake. Hoggle helped her wring water out of her pant legs.

"If you'd had shoes on, they'd be wet." he pointed out sensibly. "I can loan you a pair, but I don't have clothes for someone your size. Come on, we have to get you indoors anyway, you don't know who's watching."

* * *

Hoggle's cottage was made of the same golden stone as the Labyrinth, with a small vegetable garden out front planted with cabbages, onions and other things Sarah didn't recognize. The roof was thatched straw, and a crooked little chimney with smoke rising out of it. In the small fenced-in yard, a brown goat was tethered to an apple tree, cheerfully cropping grass and munching on fallen fruit.

"Sarah, meet Sarah." Hoggle petted the goat proudly, tugging her ears gently. "She's a good milker, and guards the cottage while I'm out."

Sarah barely contained her giggles as Sarah-the-goat butted her leg and bleated softly. "Nice to meet you. I'm... very honored, Hoggle."

They entered the cottage, Sarah ducking to avoid hitting her forehead on the low lintel. Inside, the wood beams that held up the ceiling was inches above her head, hung with dried herbs and clusters of dried sausages. A fire burned in the hearth, and the table was set for two with small wooden plates and mugs, a bowl of apples, a loaf of bread, and a round of pale yellow cheese. She suddenly realized she was famished.

"Go on, have a bite." offered Hoggle, as he scurried off to rummage in a chest in the corner. "I didn't know if you'd come right away, but I thought I'd better be prepared. Ah, here they are!"

He held up a pair of rough leather shoes triumphantly. "They're a bit worn, but I think they'll fit you."

They did. Sarah slipped them on and sat down, barely squeezing her knees beneath the table. Hoggle put a kettle on the pot-bellied little stove in the corner and set out a third plate and mug. He drew up a funny three-legged stool and carved off a slice of the cheese.

"Are you expecting more company?" Sarah nibbled the cheese, which was soft and buttery. She tore off a piece of the bread, still warm from the oven.

"Sir Didymus will be by shortly. He's been trying to reach you too, and I promised him I'd tell him any news. He'll be happy to see you, too."

Hoggle cut a wedge of apple and offered it to Sarah. After a slight hesitation, she accepted. It was juicy and tart. Sarah smiled teasingly. "My experience with fruit in the Underground hasn't always been a good one."

Hoggle blushed with guilt. "I did say I was sorry, Sarah. I would've never done it if _he_ hadn't made me, I swear."

"Did the Goblin King threaten you?"

Hoggle dropped his knife with a clatter. "Don't say his name! Don't even say his title if you can avoid it!"

"I'm sorry!" Sarah looked around worriedly, but the cottage was quiet except for the crackle of the fire and kettle burbling away on the stove.

"You've forgotten, Sarah. Words have power here in the Underground, and especially so close to the Labyrinth itself. Never say his name aloud, it might draw his attention. We don't want that just yet." Hoggle calmed down and took down a cloth-wrapped bundle from the cabinet. It was a cold meat pie with a flaky, golden crust. He cut Sarah a hearty slice.

"That's a lot of food for just the three of us." remarked Sarah.

"Hah. You don't know how Sir Didymus can eat. That hairy pest once ate so much of my apple cake in one sitting that Ambrosius refused to carry him."

"Verily, mine ears burn at thy mention of my name... Lady Sarah!" Sir Didymus exclaimed joyfully. "Thou hast come at last, in our greatest hour of need!"

"Sir Didymus!" she embraced the valiant knight and scratched Ambrosius behind the ears before he settled down in a corner to wolf down his own slice of meat pie. Sir Didymus sat down at the table.

"Alas, my friend has told you the sad state of Ludo, our brother in arms? He is much changed, and can no longer stir from his bed." Didymus' whiskers drooped slightly, then perked up a bit as Sarah handed him some bread and cheese. The kettle began to whistle.

"When can I see him?"

"Soon, Sarah. We should wait until it's dark, it'll be safer that way." Hoggle filled their cups. "Let the tea steep a bit. It's my own concoction, I made it special."

Sarah pushed back her plate, her stomach pleasantly full. "Can't you tell me more of what's going on, Hoggle? Sir Didymus?"

Sir Didymus brushed crumbs from his fur and began hesitantly. "My lady, it has been five long years since you were here last. When you defeated... Well, that is to say, when you won the challenge, things began to change. And not for the better, I'm afraid."

"It started with the castle." Hoggle slowly sliced another wedge of apple. "It's ancient, of course. Been there for as long as anyone can remember, so's you don't expect it to look new. And it's never been what you might call _tidy."_

"It's the goblins." nodded Sir Didymus. "They make a frightful mess."

"But the day after you left, I found a strange vine. It sounds silly, but I know everything that grows in the Labyrinth." said Hoggle, pride evident in his tone. "Everything from the eyeball moss to the silverwood forest. But this is something completely new. I saved a piece of it to show you."

He got up and took a glass vase off the windowsill. It contained a snippet of vine like Sarah had never seen before. The leaves were glossy green and heart-shaped, like a sweet potato vine, but it also had scarlet blossoms with a white star-shaped bloom in the center. They gave off a pleasingly sweet fragrance, and Sarah reached out to touch it.

"Don't!" Hoggle yanked it out of reach. He gingerly pushed back the leaves to reveal ugly thorns, as long as Sarah's thumb. "You can't hardly see them because of the leaves, but they'll give you a wicked jab." He showed her a recent scar on the back of his hand.

"It's true, my lady." Sir Didymus helped himself to another slice of meat pie. "And the wounds take an uncommonly long time to heal."

Hoggle set the vase carefully back on the sill, but threw the vine into the fire. "There was just a few of them at first, here and there around the base of the castle. I sprayed them, of course, you can't have weeds growing up around the royal... ahem. Yes. Well. Tea's ready, drink up before it gets cold."

"But it's just a plant," Sarah objected. "How bad could it be?" She stirred in some honey from the pot on the table and took a sip. It tasted of flowers and strawberries, and something else she couldn't identify.

"Excellent tea, my friend." Didymus slurped his noisily.

Hoggle shrugged, but looked pleased. He continued his story. "It's _not _just a plant, that's the problem. My spraying did no good, it just kept growing and growing. After two weeks, half the castle was covered in it, and now you can barely see the top of the tower. Those vines have worked their way into every nook and cranny until you can get barely find the doors and windows. Worse yet, the stones are beginning to work loose, the whole castle could come crumbling down."

"And that is not all." Sir Didymus interjected. "The Labyrinth is failing. The vines are slowly tearing it apart, rock by rock. Even my beloved Bog of Eternal Stench is drying up."

"You'd think that be a good thing, but it isn't." said Hoggle. "It smells even worse now. Even my gardens are slowly dying. The rose garden went first, and nothing I could do would save it. All those lovely flowers, I'd tended them since I was a lad..."

"I don't understand." said Sarah. "Couldn't... couldn't _he_ do something about it?"

"My lady, thou art as wise as thou art beautiful." said Sir Didymus. "But the king does nothing. He eats little and speaks even less. There were times he would visit me at my post on the bridge, but... I don't think he's set foot outside the castle since...well, since..."

"Since you've left." Hoggle finished bluntly. "Five years it's been, and he's kept himself locked away with barely a word to anyone. The Labyrinth has never been the same. _He_ has never been the same."

Sir Didymus patted Sarah's hand. "This is why we have called you back, my lady."

"Me? But--"

"We understand why you did it," Hoggled hurried to add. "Maybe it didn't seem right to you, all the tricks he pulled and the way he took your baby brother like that. Anybody'd be angry, that's plain. But don't you see, Sarah? The Labyrinth's not much, but it's our _home_."

"I don't understand at all." exclaimed Sarah in exasperation. "Why did you call me back to the Labyrinth? What is it you think I should do?"

"My lady, there is but one thing thou canst do." said Sir Didymus, his ears quirked in surprise. "Thou must remove the curse."

"Curse? What curse?"

Sir Didymus exchanged a worried glance with Hoggle, who suddenly busied himself with putting away the remains of their supper.

"We mean no offense, my lady! Only, whatever spell thou hast placed upon the king, surely it can be lifted??

"Is that what you both think?" Sarah wasn't sure if she was amused or outraged. "You think _I_ put a spell on _him_?"

"But of course! Only a very powerful sorcereress could defeat his Majesty, surely. If thou wouldst only lift the curse, the Labyrinth would be right again and my noble brother would be well."

Sarah shook her head. "I'm sorry, Sir Didymus. I'd like to help, but I have no powers or magic and I never have. Whatever happened to the Labyrinth wasn't because of me."

"I see." Hoggle set down the kettle he'd been polishing. Even Sir Didymus looked disheartened. "All along, we'd hoped... Well, we'd hoped you could fix everything back to the way it was. Now I don't know what can save the Labyrinth. Maybe nothing can."

"But why? Why can't he save it? It's his own kingdom, he can't possibly want to see it destroyed."

"Maybe he doesn't want to, but I'm not sure he has a choice." said Hoggle slowly. "He wasn't always a nice person, but he was never a bad king. Cranky, certainly. I'd be too, if I had to rule over goblins all day. But he'd never let the Labyrinth fall this far... unless he couldn't help it."

"My lady, the king and his kingdom are one and the same." Sir Didymus' voice was gentle. "A ruler must always be bonded with the land, there is no other way to rule in the Underground. If he fails, so will the Labyrinth. So will we all."

"That can't happen." Sarah said desperately. "Isn't there anything we can do?"

"I'm fresh out of ideas." said Hoggle sadly. "You were our last hope, or I wouldn't have risked bringing you back here. There's nothing to do now but send you home."

"We will visit my noble brother first," reassured Sir Didymus. "The sight of my lady will lift his spirits."

"A short visit." conceded Hoggle. "But you can't stay long. Every minute you're here increases the chance that he'll find out about you. And neither of us can guarantee what he'd do after all this time."

"I understand. But... I don't want to leave you all like this. I don't want the Labyrinth to be destroyed."

Hoggle sniffed and waved his hand dismissively. "Might not happen. He's stronger than you think, and so is the Labyrinth. Could be we'll beat this yet."

"Well said!" cried Sir Didymus. "We will not give up so easily, my lady."

* * *

It was dusk, and Hoggle judged it safe enough to leave for Ludo's cave. They bundled Sarah up in an old cloak of his which barely reached past her knees, and scurried along the outer wall until they came to a large oak with a bright green door in its base. Sir Didymus flourished a tiny key and had it open in a flash.

"A shortcut," he explained, "Sometimes 'tis better to travel underground in the Underground!"

Hoggle groaned, but led the way. To Sarah's surprise, the inside of the tree was almost completely hollow and lit with a pale glow that seemed to hum softly in the background. She examined the walls closer and saw that it was covered with swarms of miniscule fairy-like creatures, their bright wings folded up over their tiny bodies and vibrating ever so slightly as they slept. Each one was no taller than a thumbtack.

"Goldwings," whispered Hoggle. "They're harmless really, not like fairies... but try not to disturb them or the lights will go out."

A narrow set of stone steps wound its way down into the earth, past massive columns of tree roots and boulders shrouded in scaly lichen. Overhead, more goldwings clung to the dirt ceiling, lighting their way ever deeper into the earth. Sarah could hear the faint trickle of water running down the passage walls. She followed Hoggle and Sir Didymus as they nimbly descended the steps.

"Is Ludo's cave really so deep?" she asked.

"Not at all, my lady." Sir Didymus paused for breath. "The passage winds its way back up eventually, but I'm afraid it's quite a climb. I usually have to walk by myself, Ambrosius doesn't like small spaces. I've even threatened to stop feeding him, but nothing works!"

Sure enough, the stairs soon ended and the tunnel began a steady climb up. Dirt and tree roots changed gradually to solid rock, and the light of the goldwings were replaced by a pale green glow.

"What creatures are these?" asked Sarah.

"No creatures this time." Hoggle replied. "It's the rock itself that glows, and nobody knows why."

"My noble brother Ludo has told me it is because rock has a long memory, longer than you or I, my lady. It recalls the days when it was warmed by the sun, and it shines in memory of the sun's radiance."

Sarah smiled in suprise. "I had no idea Ludo was such a poet."

"Yeah, yeah." Hoggle snorted in disgust. "It's all a bunch of hooey if you ask me. I may not be a rock-caller, but even I know..."

Sir Didymus yelped triumphantly. "At last! We are here, my brave friends."

Their gradual ascent had brought them to an ancient door set in the stone wall, one made of smooth metal. It gleamed dully in the light and had no doorknob or knocker. Sir Didymus raised his staff and smartly rapped on it three times. There was a brief pause, and it opened, the hinges groaning in protest. To her relief, Sarah could see daylight in the distance.

The back entrance to Ludo's cave opened up into a cavernous room with hundreds of stalactites hanging down over their heads. Stacks of wood lined the walls, along with baskets of potatoes. Strings of braided onions and garlic hung from a high shelf that ran along one side, and a fire burned low in one corner. Sir Didymus busied himself with adding more wood and stirring the embers until flames leapt up again. He turned to a large pile of blankets lying nearby and prodded it gently with his staff.

"We have brought a visitor, my brother! One you will be delighted to see."

The large pile stirred, and Ludo raised up his shaggy head. His eyes lit up as he saw Sarah, who quickly went to his side.

"Ludo! I'm so glad to see you." She hugged the hairy beast as best she could while Hoggle plumped pillows and went looking for a tea kettle. "Are you all right?"

"Ludo sick." the creature moaned softly.

Indeed, Ludo did look very ill. Sarah tried not to let the shock show on her face and she examined her friend closely. His fur was matted and dull, and the large hands Sarah held were cold as the surrounding stone. She drew the blankets up further around his body and was dismayed to see Ludo's large frame looked slightly shrunken, as if he had not eaten in weeks.

"Here we go." Hoggle plunked down a steaming bowl in front of Ludo. "I've brought you some of my famous stew and some fresh bread."

"Yes," piped up Sir Didymus. "You must eat to keep your strength up if you are to get well."

Ludo picked half-heartedly at his food while Sarah stroked his arm. He looked down at her. "Sarah...stay?"

"I'm afraid I can't, Ludo. Hoggle brought me back to see if I could help fix the Labyrinth, but I can't. And now I have to go back, I just wanted to see you first. I wish I could stay a while longer..."

"Sarah... friend." Ludo squeezed her hand gently.

"She definitely can't stay." said Hoggle. "It was dangerous even bringing her here. You-know-who has spies everywhere, and even _one_ of those tattling goblins saw us, they'd be off running to him in a flash. Why, just the other day I..."

But Sarah wasn't paying attention. The climb had tired her out more than she anticipated, and she felt a little lightheaded. She tried to stand, but stumbled and barely caught herself on the edge of the bed.

"My lady?" Sir Didymus was at her side immediately, trying to prop her up even though he barely came up to her knees. "My lady, art thou well?"

"What? Yes, I'm fine... I think... I just need some air."

Didymus guided her to the mouth of the cave. "Here, my lady. Ludo says it is the finest view in all the Underground, and only he and the eagles see it most of the time."

The view was beautiful. A rocky path led from the cave's entrance down to a forest that stretched as far as Sarah could see. Above the treetops, brightly colored birds soared and dove, calling to one another in clear, piping song. Sarah sat down on a rock by the cave entrance. The altitude wasn't helping at all, and she found it increasingly difficult to remain upright.

"On second thought, I... don't feel so good." she mumbled, swaying a little in her seat. "Maybe it was...something I ate." Beneath her, the floor seemed to lurch and spin. She grabbed at the ledge of rock that held her with numbed fingers to steady herself.

Hoggle brought her a cup of water, patting her back worriedly. "It can't be... You didn't eat anything different, and Didymus and I are both fine."

"No, I guess not. But... I feel so strange." Sarah's heart slowed to a sluggish throb, and she couldn't get enough air. "Hoggle.." she gasped, "What was...in...the tea?"

"Nothing!" the little man cried, "Just some herbs from the garden and I picked them myself, I--"

"My lady!" said Sir Didymus exclaimed as Sarah slid to the ground. Back in the cave, Ludo howled in distress and the entire mountain trembled.

Hoggle loosened the collar on Sarah's pajamas and tried to help her sit up, but she was fading fast. "Sarah, please forgive me. I never meant to harm you, never..."

_There is nothing to forgive,_ Sarah wanted to say, but she didn't have the strength. Her vision blurred and she blinked her eyes, but couldn't clear it. High above them in the sky, the clouds swirled and pirouetted as the wind swept them toward the horizon. _Look,_ Sarah wanted to tell Hoggle, _the clouds look like ladies dancing._ But all she could do was lie there and gasp, each inhalation ragged with pain.

"Jareth!" Hoggle nearly screamed it. "Jareth, damn you, we need you!"

"He will not come." Didymus was rushing back and forth between Ludo and Sarah, every hair standing on end. "He has not answered a summons since Sarah left the Underground, not for any goblin or Labyrinth creature."

"But he'd answer _you,_ Sarah." Hoggle leaned over her, tears in his eyes. Her lips were pale, and her chest rose and fell with agonizing slowness. "Say his name, just try to say his name. He can save you, I know it."

Sarah could barely hear her friends anymore. She wanted to ask why it was so cold all of a sudden, why the light had gone, and if someone had frightened off the goldwings. Hoggle was shaking her, yelling something in her ear, but she couldn't hear him. If only he'd let her go to sleep until dinnertime...

"Sarah, no!" Hoggle gave her another stubborn shake. "You can't sleep now, you must say his name. Sarah!"

"She is gone. My sweet lady..." Sir Didymus sagged to the ground, finally defeated.

Sarah closed her eyes. What did it matter now? And yet... Hoggle was so _insistent._ Even as her awareness spiraled down into darkness, she could hear his voice still calling to her as if from a great distance. She would try to please Hoggle and do as he asked... she would. With her last breath, she managed a single word.

"Jareth..."

* * *

_More Author's Notes: I wanted to delve more into the setting, particularly the part of the Labyrinth where Hoggle lives. (Call it indulgent, but... haven't you ever wondered? He can't very well sleep under a hedge by the pool, after all.) Often stories are too hasty in rushing to Sarah interactions with the Labyrinth, or of course, with Jareth. Naturally, readers as well as writers are eager to address those issues, but I don't think it should be done to the detriment of the exposition, nor should it sacrifice the natural flow of a tale. And I simply don't like to rush anything, not setting description, not character development, and certainly not a romance, if there is to be one. So you've been warned-- this story wouldn't rush if it were trapped in a burning building.  
_

_  
Comments/reviews are welcome. _

* * *


	3. Chapter 3: I Move the Stars for No One

_Author's Note: Well. This little story is churning itself out faster than I anticipated. It wants to be written, and I shall try to oblige. _

* * *

**Chapter Three: I Move the Stars for No One...**

The darkness was complete. It was as if no light _could _exist in such a place, as if it would be swallowed utterly by whatever kept this world so cold and unchanging. And yet, there was _something_. It was far off the in the distance yet, but coming ever closer like a moth to a flame. Where before there was nothing, Sarah could now feel a rush of wind on her face and a great shuddering of the air, like the beating of powerful wings...

* * *

"She has the look of one already dead."

The King of the Goblins turned from the window to face Hoggle and Sir Didymus. He was dressed all in black: silk breeches and a full-sleeved shirt, with a leather vest fitted to his lean frame. They stood in a small bedchamber in the east wing, its walls a midnight blue and painted with hundreds of tiny silver stars like the night sky. On a bed hung with sheer lavender silk lay a dark-haired girl, eyes closed as if in sleep.

"Your Majesty, please," Hoggle begged, "She meant no harm in returning. It was I who called her back, a foolish whim--"

"You." It was more a flat statement than a question. Jareth's eyes narrowed at the cowering dwarf. "And how did you accomplish such a thing, may I ask?" This creature before him shouldn't have had the power to seize a mortal from across the void. The question bothered Jareth greatly, but he set it aside for the time being.

Hoggle grew even more nervous. "I... I don't rightly know, your Majesty. We were there one moment, talking through her mirror and the next she was there, in the Labyrinth gardens up to her knees in the goldfish pond..."

"I see."

Jareth turned to hide the mixture of grim amusement that flickered across his countenance. He brushed past Hoggle and a for once stunned into silence Sir Didymus and bent over the bed where Sarah lay, still and unmoving as a statue. Her clothing was muddied and torn, the collar laying her slender neck bare where his keen eyes could detect only the faintest of heartbeats in the hollow of her throat. She had changed little in four years, perhaps gaining an inch or so in height. The rest of it was just as he remembered--still the same long hair the color of a summer night, still the same rose-kissed mouth with lips parted slightly as if in some secret delight.

"My adversary..." he murmured to himself, eyes fixed on the milk-smooth curve of her cheek.

For four years, Jareth had looked upon no living creature with his own eyes, neither goblin nor mortal. His fury kept even the most intrepid of goblins from setting foot on the steps that led to his tower. The tower was his private realm, visited by none other than himself. It contained a library, with all his books and endless maps of the Labyrinth. The ceiling of the grand bedchamber opened to a crystal dome that provided a bird's eye view of his kingdom, and beneath it was a rarely used bed, heaped with white silk coverlets. The tower became his self-imposed prison, one he did not care to leave. Days passed as moments, then months. His maps gathered dust as he spent weeks on end crystal-gazing, seeing for himself the sights of the Aboveground that had prompted a mere mortal to choose a life there over all her dreams and desires...

He haunted Sarah in owl form, although she did not see him. Jareth felt at home in that form. There was no room in raptor's heart for loss or regret, there was only the fierce joy of flight and hunger for living meat, a crimson writhing under the tearing of beak and talon. As an owl, he could watch as if from a great distance, seeing everything but feeling nothing. But that wasn't entirely true. He had interfered, Jareth, and not the yellow-eyed bird of prey whose shape he wore. He hadn't meant to, but it was as if he could not help it. And now she was here again.

"And you would have kept her presence here a secret from me."

"Your Majesty, from you there can be no secrets--"

Jareth silenced him with a black look. "Don't think you can lie to me, Higgle. You haven't the brains for it."

The dwarf's shoulders sagged in defeat. "We... we thought you would be angry if you knew."

"We? Am I to understand you are involved this scheme as well, Sir Didymus?"

"I own that I am, your Majesty." The knight drew himself up proudly. "When the Labyrinth began to fail, it became harder to contact those in the Aboveground, but friend Hoggle and I both tried to reach her. We hoped my lady would be able to save the kingdom from destruction."

Hoggle drew in an anxious breath, half-expecting to see Sir Didymus reduced to a smoking pile of ash.

"Save the kingdom... indeed." Jareth's harsh laughter echoed off the chamber walls. "She who was nearly the ruin of it and everything I deem most precious. And now you tell me she's the one who needs saving."

His gaze turned back upon the girl. There was more grace than the sixteen year old had possessed, but also an ineffable sadness, too. He touched her cheek with a slim, gloved hand and turned it toward the sputtering candlelight, as indifferent as if he were examining a book or some other curiousity, save for the trembling of his fingers. He drew back, wrapping his cloak around him and faced his subjects with dark, hooded eyes. Arrogant and cold as ice he looked, like a statue of glittering obsidian.

"Give me one good reason why I should save her."

"Your Majesty!" Sir Didymus cried, "The lady called upon thee for aid!"

"Did she now?"

The valiant little knight bristled his fur all over, the closest he ever came to defying his ruler. "She summoned thee by _name_, Your Majesty. Thou art honor bound to help her."

"She called me, yes, but she made no such request in my hearing. Nothing prevents me from taking her back to the mortal world and leaving her to their tender mercies."

"Your Majesty, that may be too late."

The ragged little fox was probably correct, Jareth admitted reluctantly. Mortal doctors might save Sarah... if they could find out what was wrong with her. He flicked another glance back to the bed, and the bitterness in him welled up like the tide. Four years, and he never thought to see her again. And then one day, his dreamless sleep is interrupted by her voice. At first it was a whisper, little more than a faint exhalation of breath. He started up, then forced himself to lie down again. It could not be... Ah, but she was cruel, she had no right! But the reverberations of her summons swept through the castle with a roar like a storm only he could hear. He'd had no choice but to go, cursing even as he flung himself from his tower window, feeling his limbs stretch, then dwindle until they rode the wind toward the sound of her voice.

"I beg you, Your Majesty. Anything you ask of me, I will do, only let her live." Hoggle's voice was steady now even as he wrung his handkerchief in his gnarled hands.

"Anything I ask, you already do," Jareth pointed out sharply, "Because I am your King and you will live under my rule or... you won't live at all."

But he turned back to the bed, impatiently motioning the supplicants to stand back. Casually tugging off one leather glove, he extended his bare hand over Sarah's recumbent form. Outside, the wind suddenly picked up, rattling the window and howling like a wild beast. Inside, the candlelight flickered and almost extinguished. Jareth stood like this for what seemed an interminable moment, then gave Hoggle an unreadable look.

"You poisoned her."

The dwarf seemed to crumple before his eyes. "I never meant to harm her... She trusted me, called me friend..."

"Kind Hoggle," Sir Didymus said gently, "We know it was no purposeful act."

"One of your wretched herbal concoctions, no doubt." Jareth said briskly, drawing off the other glove and discarding it on a chair by the bed. "I've warned you about those."

He sounded so much like the irascible Goblin King of old that even in his despair, Hoggle looked up hopefully. Even though he'd assured Sarah that the King would answer her summons, the little man hadn't been sure. Five years was a long time, and with the Labyrinth falling into ruin, Hoggle could be sure of nothing now. As the Labyrinth had changed, so had the king. His tall frame was as lean and hard as ever, but he seemed aged somehow. Jareth's pale blond hair had streaks of silver in it now, and he wore nothing but severe black. Even the castle itself was unusually somber. Gone were the goblins who usually adorned the throne room, cackling in their drunkenness with their livestock running loose. Jareth had never cared much for their company, but now he cared for no one. Hoggle risked a sideways glance at his king, whose attention was directed toward the bed. His face was in shadow, and for some reason he couldn't explain, a slight shudder of foreboding ran through Hoggle.

In truth, Jareth was angrier than he sounded. What was food and drink to Underground creatures could be poison to mortals. Not knowing what vile weeds Hoggle dredged from his garden, she was lucky to have lived this long. He would blast the dwarf's garden to a cinder, and for good measure, he'd reduce his precious apple tree to kindling.

"Leave us."

Jareth's tone brooked no argument. Sir Didymus growled quietly in protest, but Hoggle was quiet. Sadly touching the plastic bracelet he wore on his wrist, the little man limped out of the room, gently guiding Didymus before him. The door slammed shut behind them and with a gesture of Jareth's hand, the bolt slid firmly into place.

Finally, he allowed himself to exhale raggedly, seating himself on the bed as close to the sleeping girl as he dared. Cautiously, as if he were accepting the touch of a poisonous snake, he took Sarah's hands in both his own. She did not stir. With a thought, several dozen more candles flamed to life all around the room. He should not spare even that much effort, Jareth realized, his lips thinning. It was going to be a long night.

* * *

_Yes, this chapter turned out to be surprisingly short. I assumed people would be interested to at last see a scene with Jareth in it. Also, while I don't really intend to end each chapter on a cliff-hanger, sometimes there's a natural stopping point that seems right. With this chapter, it seemed best to end it here, even though it isn't very long. But if anyone's still reading, rest assured the next chapter, **The Queen of the Dead,** is already written and is in the process of final editing. It will be posted shortly._

_Comments/reviews are welcome. _


	4. Chapter 4: The Queen of the Dead

_Author's Note: I thought about merging this with the previous chapter, but it seemed too long, even for me. The perspective in this one jumps around a bit, so I hope it is not too disconcerting to follow._

_Thanks for all the comments so far, they've been very helpful in encouraging me to continue.  
_

_

* * *

_**Chapter Four: The Queen of the Dead**

A man dressed all in black spurred his horse along a desolate road. The landscape was a bleak with not a single tree in sight, only angular rock formations wrapped in mist, their craggy pinnacles splintering the sky. His hood pulled well over his face, he bent low over the neck of his mount, whispering softly as if to speed its steps. It galloped steadily on, the rider's cloak whipping past the tendrils of fog that sought to ensnare them both. It was difficult to tell how far they had come, for there was no sun to judge the hour of day, nor stars to guide them. Only a sickly yellow light filtered in through the haze, but after a time, they came to a wide river. The current was black as ink, swirling soundlessly past the bank and running swift and deep until it tumbled out of sight.

The rider dismounted, his voice rang out across the waters. "Boatman! Come and earn your keep."

There was a long silence, then with a splashing of water the ferry pulled into view, a single figure manning its bow. It was an old man, his form haggard and spare, like his skin was laid directly over the bone. A pair of milky blue eyes peered from the depths of his cavernous eye sockets and the thin fringe of his snow-white hair lay damp across his pale forehead.

"You do not belong here." said the boatman slowly. "This crossing is not for you."

"You will do as you're told." The man reached into the depths of his cloak and drew out an ancient gold coin, which he sent spinning to the wooden deck at the boatman's feet. "It is the boatman's job to ferry those who can pay across the river, not to question."

The boatman nodded without rancor. "Aye, it is." He knelt to pick up the coin and examined it carefully before closing his withered fist upon it. When his hand opened, the coin was gone.

"So be it, if that is your will, Goblin King."

Jareth wrapped his cloak even tighter around him as he stepped on the boat.

"It is."

* * *

"Sarah, wake up." Toby shook his sister's shoulder, ignoring her feeble groans of protest. "It's time for dinner. Come look, we've decorated all the pinecones and Mom made chocolate mousse for dessert!"

Sarah pulled herself up to a sitting position and batted away Toby's hands. "Okay, okay. I'll be right down."

Her nap had left her groggy with an aching head, and there was a strange bitter taste in her mouth. Worse yet, her dreams were again strange: she was on a boat, floating down a dark river to an unknown destination. All around her, the air was so thick with fog she could almost feel it like a second skin, and try as she might, she could not see where she was going. A figure in a dark cloak stood beside her, but she could not bring herself to turn and look at him. It had been a disturbing dream, and she wasn't entirely sorry when Toby woke her. Sarah pulled the neck of her flannel pajamas away from her sticky skin. Her face was flushed, and the room felt too warm.

"Dad was going to let you sleep, but Mom said you had to eat something." her brother informed her, then left dragging his stuffed bear by the arm.

Sarah shut the door after his happily retreating figure and reached for her clothes. She wasn't at all hungry, but it was easier to go downstairs than to deal with Karen fussing over her with vitamin C tablets and cups of chicken soup. She pulled on her jeans, but paused at the hard lump in her right hand pocket, digging her hand down to see what it was.

It was a peach pit.

"Where on earth..." Sarah shook her head, but it did nothing to clear the fog. Playing with Toby in the park... the owl. She had gone to sleep before dinner, and then... then what? She couldn't remember, but felt like she ought to. Now the room felt too cold, as if someone had opened a window.

She made as if to toss it in the wastebasket, but hesitated, for some reason not wanting to throw it away. Looking around, she grabbed one of the potted plants sitting on her windowsill. It was already dead, Karen must have forgotten to water it. The withered leaves came away easily at the first tug and Sarah shoved the peach pit deep into the dirt with her fingers, then smoothed the soil back over the depression. It would be safe there for the time being, she reasoned. She would deal with it later.

* * *

The smell of pot roast changed her mind about not being hungry. The table was set with red candles and the good china, and each plate had a sprig of holly next to it, the napkin neatly folded as her stepmother always insisted. As she sat down, her father carried Toby in under one arm and plopped him down in his booster seat. Karen spooned up a large portion over mashed potatoes for her, and Sarah dug into it greedily and ate in gulps, washing it down with a glass of cold milk. Her step-mother watched in dismay as her carefully prepared meal vanished within minutes.

"For pete's sake, Sarah, don't eat so fast. You'll choke."

Sarah tried to slow down, but it was impossible. She was ravenous and soon scooped up the last dripping spoonful of buttery potatoes, then helped herself to more.

"Someone sure was hungry." remarked her father. "How was your nap?"

Sarah shrugged. "It didn't do much good."

Karen reached over and laid a hand on her forehead. "Robert, I think she's coming down with a cold. I _told_ you not to go out so long this afternoon. Now you're sick, and if Toby comes down with it..."

"I'm not sick." Sarah jerked angrily away from Karen's hand. "I just have a headache, that's all. All that fresh air was rather tiring." she added pointedly.

"Toby looks fine, but we'll keep an eye on him." Robert ruffled his son's hair. Toby seemed far more interested in hiding his carrots underneath the mashed potatoes than the conversation at hand, and he looked perfectly healthy.

"I'll take an aspirin after dinner."

"See that you do." Karen was barely mollified.

"We'll decorate the tree early instead of waiting. Both you and Toby can go to bed early." Robert winked at his son to head off Toby's protests. " It'll leave more time for Santa to work his magic."

Toby grinned, his chin wreathed with gravy. Sarah just rolled her eyes, but didn't say a word.

She didn't help much with the tree, instead choosing to sit on the couch and untangle the lights while Toby helped his parents unpack the ornaments. Out came Toby's pinecones, freshly adorned with gold glitter and the occasional plastic bead. Karen carefully unwrapped the crystal icicles that had been Sarah's present to her the year before, each one as delicate as the real thing. When they were finished, the tree looked great and Toby was yawning and barely able to keep his eyes open.

"Time for bed, little guy." Robert scooped his son up in his arms. "One more yawn like that and your whole head will split open."

"I'll take him up." Sarah stood and held out her arms. "Come on, Toby. Let's brush your teeth and get you tucked in."

* * *

Toby was so tired he didn't even ask for his usual story, and was half-asleep before Sarah even closed his bedroom door. Her own sleep was less peaceful. Not wanting the room to be completely dark, Sarah opened the curtains to let the moonlight in. Snow blanketed the yard, covering the trees in a stately mantle of white that sparkled against the black of night. Something about the scene looked familiar, but Sarah couldn't think from where.

She wrapped the blankets around her in a cocoon and tried not to think. The aspirin had relieved the ache in her head somewhat, but she was still so tired, her arms and legs felt full of lead. There was something she was forgetting from earlier, something she had to remember. It was as if there was an old acquaintance whose name she was trying to recall, but it escaped her grasp and her thoughts chased after it to no avail.

Sarah turned to find a cool spot on her pillow and fell back to dreaming.

* * *

Jareth walked past the gates of the dead city, looking neither right nor left. Past the river was a road, and it led to an immense hall built of timbers the color of old blood. Its doors swung open with a touch. He lowered the hood of his cloak and stepped inside.

The hall was lined with ancient timbers, and along both walls were rows of the shadow-dead. Their whispering was like the sound of dry leaves blowing in the wind, and they crowded close, hungrily seeking him with their empty eyes and grasping hands. Jareth ignored them and strode to the head of the hall, stopping before a man clothed all in white sat on an ivory throne. His face was gaunt and bare of all expression, and an iron crown sat upon hair blacker than a raven's wing.

"I had not thought to see you here so soon, Goblin King."

"Then you know I have not come for myself, but to claim what is mine."

The King of the Dead looked down from his throne. "In this realm, all things and all people belong to me."

"I would not have it so."

The King laughed mirthlessly, a hollow-sounding chuckle like the rattling of bones. "Many people seek my kingdom to recover one they have lost, and none return. Yet one of your like has not entered my realm to ask for the life of a mortal for a mountain's age. I have seen everything there is to see from the living and the dead and still... I find it most curious."

Jareth tensed imperceptibly, but refused to rise to the bait. "As well you might."

The King of the Dead gestured to his right, and the ranks of his ghostly court parted to reveal a waist-high stone table. On it lay a dark-haired girl dressed in a gown of white, her eyes closed and hands crossed over her breast. On her forehead gleamed a circlet of iron with a single sapphire set in it. Jareth took an involuntary step toward her, but the ranks of the spirit court thickened before him until it was an impenetrable wall.

"She would not be dishonored here, Goblin King. She would attain an honored rank higher than any place Above or Below, for of all kingdoms, mine is the greatest."

Jareth tore his gaze from the table. "And yet, I would claim her still."

The King's sigh was like the creaking of trees in the wind. "So be it." He rose from his throne and cast aside his mantle to reveal a light breastplate as white as bleached bone. In his outstretched hand materialized a long sword, the same dull iron as his crown with more sapphires set in the hilt.

Jareth shrugged off his own cloak. Underneath it, he wore only a plain white shirt and a tunic of black leather. His own sword was of gleaming silver, the blade etched with a twisting vine pattern. Jareth drew it and waited.

The King struck first, his sword darting out in a deadly strike that Jareth barely parried, and the dance began. The two men circled one another, then met in a series of clashes that left both men panting. The King eyed his opponent warily.

"You fight for nought, Goblin King. The life of a mortal burns brightly, but they are soon extinguished. What is one such life to the likes of you and I?"

Jareth gritted his teeth and lashed out, catching the King a heavy blow as he brought up his sword just in time to avoid being beheaded. "I have my reasons. But you'll forgive me," he lashed out again, forcing the King to duck his blow, "If I do not discuss them with you."

The King shrugged, his face impassive. The next moment, his massive sword nearly cleaved Jareth in two, but the Goblin King twisted to one side at the last minute, slicing at the King's exposed shoulder as he did so and drawing first blood. The other man staggered, but recovered quickly and again his sword swung in a deadly arc that caught Jareth in the side. The Goblin King restrained a groan. He could feel a trickle of blood from the wound work its way down his ribs. Crippled, the fighters drew back, breathing heavily.

"Yield to me, Goblin King, and you will have riches far beyond your imagining."

"I have no need for them." replied Jareth shortly. "You know what I want."

The King of the Dead feinted, then sought to impale Jareth as he slid just out of reach.

"Yield, and you would not see my kingdom again for thrice as long as one of your ilk."

Jareth slashed viciously at the King, forcing the other man to use his wounded shoulder again and again. "You can make no bargain with me that I would accept, save one."

The king swung out again but overreached himself, and Jareth thrust his blade several inches deep just under his opponent's arm, at an unprotected chink in the armor. The other man staggered to one knee, and Jareth seized the opportunity to move in. But the King swept one leg out and kicked Jareth's feet out from underneath him. He caught the Goblin King by the throat, his face still without expression as he tightened his crushing grip around Jareth's neck. Both their swords clattered to the ground, forgotten.

"All men yield to me in the end, Goblin King."

"As will I." Jareth fought for breath. "But not, I think, today." Ignoring the pain that tore at his side, he withdrew the dagger from his boot and brought it swiftly down.

* * *

Back in her room, Sarah woke, jolted out of her dreams by a sharp stab of pain in her heart. She shoved aside her tangled sheets, gasping for air and tumbling out of bed onto the floor. Hoggle, Sir Didymus, Ludo lying ill in his cave... she remembered it now. But what of the cold and the darkness? She recalled only flashes of images, a desolate road, a cavernous hall with a vaulted ceiling made of human bones...the clash of metal upon metal until sparks flew. Somewhere in her mind's eye, she could see a white owl flying blindly into the wind, its breast stained with blood. The despondent fury in its screech sent fear like a wave of ice down to her very bones. Sarah scrabbled upright in horror and ran to the window, expecting to see the bird battering against the glass.

There was nothing but the silent winter night.

But as she looked outside on the ledge of her window, three bright drops of blood bloomed crimson in the snow. Sarah muffled her scream with the sleeve of her pajamas and fell back, almost knocking the potted plant off the windowsill. But it too had changed. Where there was nothing but dirt and the peach pit now grew a tiny, an almost perfectly formed tree with a single blossom blushing deep pink at its heart and petals fading to pearly white in the moonlight. Before Sarah even knew what she was doing, she stretched her hand toward it.

"I wish..."

She didn't complete the thought out loud, but a thunderclap shook the room and in a flash, she was gone.

* * *

_As you might guess, the events do not take place in chronological order, although I'm reluctant to call the parts with Jareth a flashback since it's more complicated than that. Deciding how to put together this chapter and the two different story threads was a difficult challenge. If you have any ideas or suggestions for how it could be better done, feel free to speak up.  
_

_As usual, comments/reviews are welcome._


	5. Chapter 5: As the World Falls Down

_Author's Note: The story does indeed seem to be writing itself so far, which is a pleasant surprise. I have a rough idea of how it will turn out, but mostly I plan ahead only by a chapter or so. By the time one chapter is posted, the next is usually already underway. By this means, I hope to be able to maintain this unusual habit (for me) of regular updates._

_**Angelwingz202**, earlier you asked if Sarah's illness really was the tea, or a vine-related issue. While nothing can be ruled out, I think it's safe to say that this particular scene is what it seems-- Hoggle is an excellent cook, but perhaps not the greatest gardener or botanist.  
_

_For the most part, I haven't been addressing individual comments per the custom here, but I've read and appreciated them all. It was good to know that the previous chapter wasn't too confusing in regards to perspective, and good to get some feedback about what I've written. If there are any questions, I'll try my best to answer them. Oh, and bonus points for recognizing the not-so-subtle literary reference.  
_

* * *

**Chapter Five: As the World Falls Down**

Sarah landed on the floor with a crash, bringing down a tangle of purple silk with her. She was in a strange room with a ceiling painted to look like the night sky. Pulling herself up on the canopied bed, she noticed dozens of candles burned to their very end until they were little more than puddles of wax. On the floor was a moss green carpet woven with tiny wildflowers like a medieval tapestry, and in one corner of the room was a giant wardrobe.

She went to it curiously and tugged it open. It was filled with row upon row of beautiful gowns in every color Sarah could imagine. They looked like they'd been there for quite some time, even though they had never been worn. She took down a silvery blue one and held it up against her body... too small, but only just. Looking around her to make sure no one was watching, she reached in and felt for the back of the wardrobe, wondering if there would be a snowy wood and a single glowing lamp-post beyond. There was nothing but the hard wood backing, and Sarah chuckled nervously. In a place like this, you never knew what could happen. But sometimes stories were just that... stories. Then her hand brushed up against something that felt oddly familiar. She pulled it toward her to better see it.

It was a white and silver ballgown with full sleeves and a delicate twisting pattern embroidered on the bodice in gold thread. It couldn't be... and yet, there was no mistaking it. Every detail was just as she remembered-- the sleeves that skimmed her shoulders, and the way it gathered in at her waist. Jareth had lain his hand in the curve of her back, holding her tight to him as they spun across the ballroom floor, and... Sarah dropped the gown as if it burned her fingers. Looking around the room once more, she rolled up the white ballgown and thrust it deep to the back of the wardrobe. When a tentative knock sounded on the chamber door, she jumped and hastily shut the door.

"Your Majesty?" A voice cautiously inquired from the hall.

"Sir Didymus!" Sarah cried, rushing to unbolt the door. "And Hoggle, there are you are!"

The dwarf and the fox nearly fell into the room, then seized Sarah in a fierce embrace.

"My lady, you are alive! I knew his Majesty would--"

"Sarah, please forgive me, I never meant--"

"Hush, don't both of you talk at once!" Sarah laughed. "Hoggle, there is nothing to forgive. I know you would never knowingly hurt me."

The little man turned aside brushed a tear from his eye with his sleeve quickly, wanting no one to see.

"I just never would've forgiven myself if anything had happened to you, that's all. And I thought Ludo would tear me to pieces."

"Is Ludo all right?"

"Same as ever, my lady. I will send him word of your recovery posthaste." Sir Didymus bowed low and cleared his throat to hide the emotion in his voice. "It will cheer him mightily. With thy permission, my lady, I will withdraw. Ambrosius!"

"No, wait!" Sarah grabbed the little knight before he could scurry away. "I need both of you to help me. I need to know what happened."

"You don't remember?" Hoggle sounded genuinely surprised, but flustered, too.

"Only bits and pieces. At Ludo's cave, I think I fainted. I remember you calling my name... but then it all goes black. I have these strange fragments running through my head, but they're like dreams. They make no sense."

"You were gravely ill, my lady." Sir Didymus shook his head sadly. "When you collapsed, nothing could revive you."

"We were afraid you would die, Sarah." The dwarf shuffled his feet, looking wretched and guilty. "We... That is to say, you summoned the Goblin King, and he brought you here."

Sarah paled and sat down on the bed. She looked at the chair drawn up beside it. On the chair was a pair of sleek black leather gloves. "I was here? With him?"

Hoggle squirmed away from Sarah's accusing stare. "It was the only way, Sarah. I wouldn't have done it otherwise..."

"I know." Sarah drew in a shuddering sigh. "Where is he now?"

Hoggle shrugged in bewilderment. "We begged him to save you, but I wasn't sure he'd agree. Then he kicked us out and locked the door, and that's the last we saw of him."

"I don't remember..."

"We couldn't hear a sound from the hall all night. Only Didymus dared to knock just now because he heard a crashing noise from inside the chamber."

"That was me, falling off the bed. But no one else was here at all."

"His Majesty must have left. But he healed thee, my lady." Sir Didymus smiled in relief, touching Sarah's shoulder as if he wanted to reassure himself that she was really there.

"Yes, but I can't have been here the whole time. I was at home again, I remember..." Sarah paused, searching through her scrambled memories of dinner, then the dream of that lonely landscape and the river. As before, there was something nagging her, something she should know. She kicked the bed in frustration. "I don't know what I remember."

"It doesn't matter." Hoggle tugged her sleeve. "You're well, and we can get out of here before _he_ gets back!"

"We can't do that!" Sarah twisted free. She thought of the wardrobe full of dresses, and the familiar white ballgown. "I... I can't explain why, Hoggle, but I need to see him."

"But he might not want to see you. He was so angry last night, he barely wanted to look at you at all." The dwarf shuddered at the memory of it.

"Then why did he help me?"

"Search me. You don't question the motives of a king, that's what I've learned. Especially not Jareth, and not now. Just thank your lucky stars he did what he did, and let's get out of here!"

Sarah shook her head firmly. "I'm sorry, Hoggle. I won't go until I've seen him."

"Friend Hoggle, it is only meet that the lady should thank her rescuer." said Sir Didymus encouragingly.

Hoggle groaned. "He doesn't want thanks. What he wants is revenge! He'll have all three of us hanging upside down over the Bog of Eternal Stench before you can blink."

"No..." said Sarah slowly. "I don't think that will happen."

"Fine reassurance that is." grumbled the little man. "We'll rule as the royal crowned heads of the kingdom of Stench together."

* * *

"You can't go up there. Nobody goes up there!"

The goblin was emphatic, his eyes startled and round. His small horned helmet sat askew on his head, and he was lugging a sackful of what looked like burnt-out candle stubs. They stood before a set of silvery wooden doors, lit on either side with torches burning brightly. Carved into them were the spreading branches of a forest holding up a night sky of diamond stars embedded in the wood. The goblin stood protectively before the doors, but cowered under the three friends' sharp gazes.

"But these are His Majesty's rooms?" Sir Didymus inquired politely.

"They're his private rooms. No one's ever allowed up, everyone knows that."

"You heard him." Hoggle coughed nervously and tugged at his jewel belt. "No use invading his privacy and all that."

"That's not good enough." Sarah crossed her arms across her chest with a stubborn set of her chin that Hoggle recognized. "He may not want to see anyone, but he'll have to see me."

"It is as my lady commands." Sir Didymus pushed aside the protesting goblin and started for the doors.

Sarah grabbed him. "Wait... I need you and Hoggle to stay here. I have to do this alone."

Reluctant as he was to enter the Goblin King's chambers, Hoggle liked this even less. "I don't think that's a good idea at all. There's no telling what would happen if you went up there by yourself."

"Yet you two left me alone with him last night." Sarah pointed out. "If he'd meant to harm me, he would have done it then."

"I am sure His Majesty means no harm, my lady." avowed Sir Didymus loyally. "But still, perhaps if one of us were to accompany thee to make an introduction..."

"I insist. I won't be long, and you two can wait for me."

"As you wish." The little knight was resigned.

"Do be careful, Sarah." said Hoggle urgently. "Don't make him any angrier than he already is."

Sarah nodded and took a deep breath before raising her hand to the door. There was no handle and no bell to ring, so she simply put a hand on its carved surface, polished smooth with age. The doors swung open to reveal a winding staircase. She looked back at her friends. Sir Didymus waved his staff encouragingly, while Hoggle merely looked ill.

"He'll blast you to smithereens. Don't say I didn't warn you!" squeaked the goblin, scuttling away with his bag.

* * *

Sarah was a little afraid when the doors swung noiselessly shut behind her, but she started up the stairs. They too, were polished smooth and the middle of each step was slightly concave, as if people had passed this way for so long they'd worn a hollow in each one. Skimming one hand along the wall for balance, Sarah began to climb. The way was lit with candles, each held in an ivory sconce the shape of a graceful hand. There was no sound except her footsteps, and Sarah alternated between watching her step and craning her neck to see if she'd reached the top of the stairs. On the seventh step, she froze in her tracks. There was a spot of blood on the stone. It was not an old stain, but neither was it newly shed. Sarah couldn't bring herself to touch it, but now she took the stairs two at a time.

At the top of the stairs was a smaller set of doors, and they burst open before Sarah could even reach them. She stepped into a high-ceilinged chamber, the walls lined with books and other curios. But it was the large wooden desk in the center of the room that drew her attention, and the man sitting behind it. Sarah's breath caught in her throat. Far from being ill or wounded, the Goblin King lounged easily in his chair, the sleeve of his heavy silk robe pushed up over a pale wrist. He set the book down and took up a pair of leather gloves from a desk drawer, tugging them on slowly. The light from the fireplace behind him glinted off his silver-blond hair.

"Hello, Sarah. I'm afraid you have me at quite the disadvantage." His smile was slow and easy, eyebrow arching as he took in her disheveled appearance. "I did not expect you in my private chambers."

"I..." Sarah was at a loss for words. Now that she was here before him, she didn't know quite what to expect. But she hadn't expected this.

He rose somewhat stiffly, folding his robe around him. It was a deep crimson with intricate gold stitching running down the front, its length falling just past his knees. Sarah could see he still wore breeches underneath, but his boots had been exchanged for ones in a softer leather. Jareth leaned casually against the edge of his desk, as if fully aware of her scrutiny. Sarah blushed fiercely, and her next words came out in a rush.

"I want to thank you for what you did. For saving me."

Jareth laughed shortly. "Save you? Hardly, my dear Sarah. No doubt you would have pulled through on your own without my interference."

Sarah hadn't expected this, either. "But... Hoggle said I nearly died."

"He would say that, wouldn't he? Wretched thing." The Goblin King examined the bookshelves and took down a trio of rings made of a translucent green stone. He twirled them idly, linking and unlinking them in the air with a pass of his hand. "He was convinced he'd killed you with that vile tea of his."

"If I wasn't going to die, then why did you bring me here?" Sarah eyed him warily.

"Your friends were most... persistent." Jareth was at her side before she realized it, cupping her chin with his hand, his eyes gazing deeply into her own as a grim smile played across his face. "And I do not deny there is a certain satisfaction to having the one who destroyed my Labyrinth under my power again."

* * *

_Author's Note: Ordinarily I wouldn't end a chapter in the middle of a scene, but it seemed like a good stopping place. If anyone is particularly anxious, then rest assured that the next chapter (entitled **My Beloved Enemy**, if anyone wants to know) is well underway.  
_

_Comments/reviews are welcome._

* * *


	6. Chapter 6: My Beloved Enemy

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* * *

Author's Note: Ah, here we are. For some reason, this chapter wasn't as easy to write even though I knew (approximately) what was to happen. To recap quickly, the last chapter left off in the middle of a scene between Jareth and Sarah, where she has confronted him in his private chambers. Sarah was (perhaps naively) surprised to find that Jareth's reasons for saving her were not entirely altruistic, and he is still the same arrogant Goblin King she remembers. Their reunion was not going smoothly. Then again, who expected that it would?  
_

_Thanks for the new comments. **Ymir-chan**, sorry about the confusion, but I think it sounds like you have a better handle on the plot than you think. Hope that helps.  
_

_ I certainly would welcome more reviews, but I'm happy so far that people seem to be reading the story, even if they aren't commenting on it. And of course, you all recognized the reference. I did say it wasn't very subtle, but it seemed impossible to have a wardrobe without a mention of The Chronicles of Narnia.  
_

* * *

**Chapter Six: My Beloved Enemy**

Stung, Sarah jerked back. "Is that what this is?"

"What else did you think it could be?" Jareth countered quickly. "Did you imagine me as some sort of white knight, riding to the rescue of a damsel in distress?" The Goblin King shook his head mockingly. "Really, Sarah. I thought you had grown up and left these childish fantasies behind."

Sarah flushed with anger. "I had. But the dreams I had of this godforsaken place wouldn't let me forget. It was you, wasn't it? You sent me those nightmares."

"I haven't the slightest idea of what you're talking about. I'm hardly in the habit of haunting young ladies' dreams." Jareth leaned against his desk once more, and his voice was like a velvet caress. "Unless, of course... they invite me."

The accompanying wicked smile was more than she could bear.

"_Invite_ you!" she spat out. "Don't flatter yourself, Goblin King. I wouldn't be here in the Underground at all if Hoggle hadn't called me, and I certainly wouldn't have wanted to see you regardless."

"Then don't flatter _your_ precious self, Sarah." Jareth sounded both amused and angry. "If I recall correctly, I offered you your dreams once and you rejected them. Your nightmares have nothing to do with me."

"You offered me nothing but illusions. That's all your magic can ever be, empty and unreal."

"Oh, truly? Then is this castle merely an illusion? Are your friends waiting downstairs for you the figments of imagination you thought them to be when you were safely Aboveground?"

They were not, Sarah had to admit ruefully. She still had a bruise on her shoulder from tumbling out of the bed in the star chamber, and she knew now that Hoggle and Sir Didymus were as real as she was. This fantasy was all too real. Jareth looked back at her, arms folded elegantly across his chest.

"Not that I blame you for wanting to forget. Who would want to be responsible for tearing apart a land the way you have?"

"Whatever you might think," Sarah said through gritted teeth. "I am _not_ responsible for what happened here. I didn't even know of it until Hoggle and Sir Didymus told me, and I still don't understand it any more than anyone else does. If anyone's to blame, it's you, for letting this happen."

"Clever, clever girl." Jareth's reply was like a snarl, deep in his throat. "But I never said you did it knowingly. On the contrary, you are the most ignorant mortal visitor this realm has ever seen, and your lack of comprehension for what you have done is likely to be the death of the Labyrinth entirely."

Sarah seized the first object off the bookshelf closest to her and hurled it at the Goblin King, striking him on the shoulder. "And you, I hope. _That_ would be no great loss to anyone!" She turned and stormed out of the room, the doors slamming shut behind her.

Jareth let out the pained breath he'd been holding and sagged against the desk, barely able to keep himself upright. Some things _were_ merely illusion, and his fortitude was one of them. The wound in his side was like a ravening wolf, and it began to bleed again. He would have to change the bandages, and soon, but he did not know if he had the strength. Lying on the carpet beneath the desk was the object Sarah had thrown at him, and he stooped to retrieve it with great effort. It was a crystal... nothing more. Jareth laughed hoarsely, sinking to his knees on the floor before the fire. The blood was flowing freely now, soaking the side of his robe, and the room spun around him.

"Such a temper..." he whispered, though no one else could hear, "My beloved enemy..."

* * *

Sarah ran down the stairs, unheeding of the dangers of tripping and breaking her neck. With the sleeve of her pajamas, she swiped at the hot tears that stung her eyelids. No one would knew she cried, least of all the Goblin King, damn him. She regretted insisting on seeing him now, and didn't know why it had seemed so important only a short while ago. No, it was her dream, the dream of a wounded owl battered by the cold winter winds. She had been convinced it had something to do with Jareth, that there was something wrong, and yet... Why did she care?

She didn't, Sarah insisted fiercely to herself. But his accusation still stung, even more than it had coming from Sir Didymus. Jareth too, was convinced she had something to do with the Labyrinth's downfall. She didn't want to admit they could be right. When she reached the bottom of the stairs, her friends were waiting anxiously, relief written all over Hoggle's weathered face.

"You're back! And in one piece, I'm glad to see."

"Of course I am." Sarah replied dismissively. "I told you nothing would happen."

"Was your talk with His Majesty productive, my lady?" Sir Didymus asked.

"I wouldn't call it that exactly. But some things that needed settling have been settled." _Mild understatement_, Sarah thought to herself. _I basically told the Goblin King I hoped he'd drop dead. You can't get much more settled than that.  
_

Out loud to her friends, she said only, "Perhaps we should leave now. If my family wakes up on Christmas morning and I'm not there, they'll call the police."

Hoggle and Sir Didymus exchanged guilty glances.

"We were just discussing that." said Hoggle. "You see, the problem is... Well, I don't know how to take you back."

"But you brought me here!"

"I suppose I did," agreed Hoggle hastily, "But I still don't know how. I've never brought someone to the Underground before. Nobody has! Except Jareth, of course."

"Oh god, you have to be kidding me." groaned Sarah. "You are not telling me I'm stuck here. I forbid it."

"I'm afraid so, my lady. It's true. We have no way of sending you back." Sir Didymus shrugged ruefully. "Perhaps His Majesty can be prevailed upon to do you a small favor..."

Sarah winced. "Now might not be the best time to ask him."

"In the morning, then?"

"Er, yes." she smiled weakly. "In the morning."

Hoggle sighed resignedly. "Fine. You might as well retire to your room until tomorrow. Jareth may have saved you, but you're still in no shape to be running around."

"Here?" Sarah was aghast. "I can't possibly stay here."

"Thou hast done so already," pointed out Sir Didymus. "At the King's invitation... technically. One more night would make little difference."

"Hoggle?"

"Don't look at me. I wanted to leave earlier, but now it looks like we really are stuck."

"Fear not, friend Hoggle." said Sir Didymus grandly. "Goblins are a rambunctious lot, but they do not begrudge hospitality to a weary traveler. We will not lack for a place to sleep, and the lady can retire to her own rooms."

Sarah felt uneasy. The room was meant to be hers, that much was clear. She just didn't know if she liked what that implied.

* * *

Back in her chamber, Sarah bolted the door and set her back against it. Someone had been in the room in her absence. The bed was freshly aired, the candle stubs were gone and new candles burned brightly in their place. A fire had been kindled in the hearth, and next to it was a small table set with covered dishes. _Who could have managed it on such notice,_ Sarah wondered. _Hoggle, maybe?_ She began lifting covers off dishes and laughed. Grilled cheese sandwiches, tomato soup and a plate of chocolate chip cookies, her favorite comfort food while growing up. Definitely not Hoggle, then. Sarah wasn't even sure chocolate existed in the Underground. Her laughter stilled as she realized who must then be responsible. Why had he done this? And even worse, could it be another trick? Sarah's stomach growled, reminding her it had been a while since her stepmother's pot roast. Trick or not, she had to eat. Sarah shrugged and pulled up a chair, helping herself hungrily to everything on the table.

When she'd finished and found to her relief that nothing happened, she went to explore the rest of her room, which was larger than she realized. One alcove led to a round room, its walls lined with bookshelves and a writing table under the window. Many of the books Sarah loved best were there, plus some she'd never heard of. She ran her hand along the shelf and came to one titled The History of the Labyrinth, a huge leather-bound tome covered in dust. _Here's a cure for insomnia if I ever saw one_, Sarah thought. _I may need it tonight, trying to sleep in this place._ She tucked it under her arm and went to explore the bath chamber, which she'd seen earlier.

Thankfully, it wasn't nearly as medieval-looking as the rest of the castle. White stone gleamed everywhere, and a pot-bellied cast iron stove radiated heat from a corner of the room. A large, claw-footed tub was already full of hot water, and next to it was a pile of bath towels and a dainty pile of scented soaps. For a moment, Sarah didn't know what to think.

"Stop it right now." she said loudly. "Whoever's doing this... It's not that I don't appreciate what you're doing for me, but it's creepy as hell."

Only silence answered her, and the bath continued to steam invitingly. Sarah sighed. It had been a long day, and a hot bath with a boring book sounded temptingly normal, even if everything else wasn't.

* * *

Sinking in up to her chin, Sarah rested the book on the edge of the bath. Reading in the tub was a guilty pleasure, and she couldn't count the number of books she had at home with wrinkly pages from being accidentally dropped in the water. Well, she'd be more careful with this one, Sarah promised herself. _Although I'm not sure who'd miss it if I did ruin it._

Half an hour later, the water was cooling and she was still glued to the page. The Labyrinth's history was more fascinating than she thought, a land of untamed magic and creatures even stranger than the ones she'd already met. Sarah could barely put it down long enough to towel herself dry and comb her wet hair, and she didn't even blink when she returned to the bed to find a white cotton nightgown laid out for her. A badly drawn map accompanied the text, and Sarah read the place names with great interest. the Wastelands, Echo Mountain, the great Merandanon river, Glimmerglass falls, Firethorn valley... She had seen only one small portion of the Labyrinth. How big is this place, anyway? Sarah wondered.

But the next part intrigued her even more.

_Despite its size and diverse population, the kingdom of the Labyrinth has only ever had a single ruler. By some counts, King Jareth has ruled more than eleventy generations, marking the start of his reign in the year-of-the-mushy-peas. Neither goblin nor mortal-kind, the Goblin King's origins are a mystery. In her charming year-of-the-turnip publication, A Modeste Booyke of Goblyn Lore, renowned Goblin historian Minerva T. Pratswallop records the earliest sightings of the King..._

Sarah slammed the book shut in frustration. "Goblin historians must be bad with numbers," she said aloud. "Everything is year-of-the-salty-ham or year-of-the-potato. It barely says anything about Jareth at all."

_And why would you want to know anything about that, dear girl?_

She could almost hear his playful tone in her head, and it made her want to scream. Their meeting had gone horribly, horribly wrong. Never in a million years could Sarah have anticipated throwing things at him and storming out, but to accuse her of destroying the Labyrinth and making Ludo ill was beyond the pale. Belatedly, she recalled Sir Didymus' similar assumption. Even her friend had thought her capable of bespelling the Labyrinth and its ruler to ruin, even by accident, Sarah thought sadly. She had laughed it off then, but to find that the Goblin King thought the same was another story altogether... But that just wasn't possible. She was plain old Sarah Williams, with no magical powers. Yes, she'd beaten the Goblin King's challenge and defeated him, but it was just words. Surely just words alone wouldn't destroy her friends' home... would it?

"I want everything to be the way it was." Sarah said the empty chamber. "I want Ludo to be well again, and the Labyrinth to be whole. I don't want any more of these nightmares. And I want to go home."

_What's said is said._

Sarah thumped the book down, blew out the candle by the bed and huddled under the covers. But there was still a nagging feeling she couldn't shake, as if... someone needed her. But that didn't make any sense at all.

* * *

_Comments/reviews welcome. _


	7. Chapter 7: What Dreams May Come

_Author's Note: Hello everyone, and thank you for reading along. I am more pleased with this chapter than the previous one, partly because it was easier to write. Chapters which are easier to write always seem more polished to me somehow... probably because the story was already in my head and it is a relief to type it out for an audience the way I picture it.  
_

**_Nunnals_**_, Sarah possesses no magical powers, at least, not the way the Goblin King does. But she isn't entirely powerless, either..._

_**SmeagulTheWeasul**, it's no problem. I don't think it's dorky to plan ahead with your comments, it's actually a good idea. If more people thought before they spoke/wrote, there'd be a lot fewer problems in the world. Thank you for commenting. _

_For everyone else who is anxious to see how the story turns out...thank you. I'm actually kind of touched anyone cares and has even a modicum of interest in this story. Your comments certainly inspire me to keep going, and I hope not to disappoint you. _

_The chapter begins with Sarah's dream. _

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**Chapter Seven: What Dreams May Come**

She was standing in the doorway of a chamber. A glass-domed roof opened up to a brilliant night sky with so many stars that the room was bathed in their silvery light. Sarah shivered. No fire burned in the hearth, and air held a wintery chill. In the center of the room was a bed draped with white silk, and as she stepped in the room, the sleeping figure that lay on it stirred restlessly.

"We must stop meeting this way, Sarah." His tone was wry, his voice rough with fatigue. "People will talk."

Sarah drew closer. The Goblin King was pale, the color of ashes. With great effort, he pulled himself up a little further, his eyes wary and sharp on her. One trembling gloved hand snaked out from under the covers to ward her off.

"Don't come any closer."

Despite the dark warning in his speech, she felt no fear. "I remember now," Sarah said slowly, approaching the bed but keeping an arm's length from the edge. "I dreamed that you needed me."

"That's ridiculous."

"I saw an owl, its breast stained bright with blood..." she spoke as if she were in a trance. Her hazel eyes were focused on something far away. "It was you."

"A nightmare, nothing more." A light sheen of sweat beaded on Jareth's forehead now. "I wish you and your childish whims were back Aboveground and out of my kingdom."

"I came to help you."

"And I," replied the Goblin King angrily, "Do not _need_ help. Even if I did, you are the very last person I would ask."

"Hoggle and Sir Didymus thought I could help!"

"Your two friends, while well-meaning, have the combined intelligence of moldy bread and even more questionable judgement." said Jareth through gritted teeth. "Not the least of which is demonstrated by what dubious company they choose to keep."

He sat up and grimaced, thrusting the covers aside and advancing on Sarah. Clad in loose silk only a shade or two paler than his skin, he almost shimmered under the light of the stars.

"And furthermore," he continued, "I thought I made it clear your interference was not welcome. Your wanton destruction of my Labyrinth is one thing, but since your return, things have only worsened. This damned thorn-vine of Hoggle's has climbed its way to my tower window and it's tearing the castle apart stone by stone. Not a single bud or bloom remains of any flower in the Underground, the wells are turning to poison. I can feel the far corners of my kingdom slowly dying and there's nothing I can do."

"No, I--"

"This," Jareth clenched his fist in her face, growling low and harsh. "This is entirely your doing, witch."

"I'm not a witch." her face was white in the starlight, her voice barely a whisper. "I didn't do this. I couldn't have."

"'I couldn't have!'" The Goblin King mocked her in a voice eeriely like her own. "Still the same old Sarah, nothing is ever your fault or your responsibility. You wanted the child, and you got your brother back, though you little deserved him. You wanted me defeated and broken, and you've gotten your wish. Only if I go, the Labyrinth goes. And you didn't think of that, did you?"

"I never wanted--"

"You want to return home, Sarah? Then wish it, it is within your power. Wish it and begone from this place forever. Go back to your classes and your books. Forget about your foolish friends and the doom you've visited upon them."

Jareth looked as if he wanted to continue, but he had to stop and wrap both arms around his mid-section, breathing hard. After a long moment, he looked up, teeth bared in a wolfish smile.

"Go on, Sarah. Make your wish."

Sarah blinked back tears. "I wish..." She paused and drew a shuddering breath. "I wish... _you'd_ go back to where you came from." she said softly.

Jareth straightened grimly. To Sarah's horror, blood began to seep from his side, a starburst of crimson against the white silk of his shirt. His eyes were dark with pain and confusion. "What... have... you... done?"

He moved toward Sarah, hand outstretched, but froze in mid-step as if his very breath strangled him where he stood.

"You stupid, stupid girl." he choked out.

Without another word, he turned and walked quickly to a wide arched window and flung himself out into the starry night. Snowy wings beat the air, spattering droplets of blood on the stone, and one last despairing cry tore through the silence.

And then he was gone.

* * *

Hoggle groaned and knuckled his aching back. "Goblin hospitality, my foot."

To be fair, the goblins _had_ been very hospitable. They'd welcomed Hoggle and Sir Didymus with a hearty meal of bread and goblin cheese (which Hoggle feared wasn't made out of any sort of milk he knew), and then broke open a cask of something they called rhum, a fizzy, fruity drink with a kick like a fairy mule. After that, Hoggle didn't remember much, but he woke up on the floor of the throne room with a reluctant chicken as his pillow and a goblin helmet lodged under his spine. Sir Didymus was nowhere to be seen.

He clambered over piles of snoring goblins to the kitchens, where the knight was breakfasting on more goblin cheese and watered-down rhum. The previous night's celebration affected him not at all.

"Good morning and well-met, my friend!" called Sir Didymus cheerfully. "Didst thou sleep well?"

"I slept, but not at all well." replied Hoggle sourly. "Is there anything else to eat besides that wretched cheese?"

"I'm afraid not. But there's plenty to go around."

"That's what I was afraid of."

"Oh, it's an acquired taste, indeed." Sir Didymus gestured with an malodorous wedge. "But it seems to go well with the rhum. The goblins are awfully fond of it."

"So I've noticed. It explains a--"

The two companions were interrupted by a thunderous crash that shook the very foundations of the castle. Sir Didymus was knocked off his chair, his plate and mug went flying. Hoggle clutched the heavy kitchen table for dear life and wondered if it would make an adequate protection against falling chunks of rock, but before he could crawl beneath it, everything went still again.

"What in all seven hells was _that?"_

Hoggle wasn't sure what shocked him more, the ground shaking or Sir Didymus cursing. He went to the kitchen door and poked his head out cautiously.

"Whatever it is, it's done with for now. It sure woke up the goblins, though."

Outside, their goblin hosts were screeching and running around like wild things. Hoggle and Sir Didymus watched curiously until they both remembered.

"Sarah!"

* * *

Feeling ill and shaky, Sarah was already dressed and stumbling out of her room by the time her friends found her. The bedchamber had laid out a curious, but not unappealing outfit for her, and to Sarah's relief, it wasn't a ballgown. Perfectly ordinary jeans and a loose-fitting pale blue top had been laid out, with lace-up leather shoes. She pulled them on now as Hoggle rushed toward her.

"Sarah! Thank the gods, you're all right."

Hoggle looked shaken, his clothing rumpled and smelling faintly of... Sarah wasn't sure what, but she reminded herself that she was grateful for her room after all. Relying on goblin hospitality didn't seem like a fun alternative.

"What happened? I heard a noise like a dozen cannons going off all at once."

Sir Didymus caught up, panting hard. "The... tower, my lady. The goblins have just told me. The King's tower has collapsed."

* * *

"How could this happen?"

The carved wooden doors to Jareth's tower now opened onto a pile of rubble entangled with thorny vine. Everywhere Sarah looked, she saw broken stone and goblins picking through it, murmuring dazedly. Books were everywhere, their torn pages littering the debris. She reached for the corner of a crumpled map wedged between two stones, but pulled back with a sharp cry. Blood pearled on the tip of her finger from a shard of shattered crystal.

"Sarah! Be careful." Hoggle was at her side, offering a handkerchief. "There's no telling what he kept up in this tower and what it might do."

But Sarah knelt again and seized the map, clutching it to her and smearing it with blood. "I'm all right, Hoggle. I just... I have to look."

"His Majesty was fond of maps," said Sir Didymus, his tail drooping with grief. "We had many a fine chat about the Labyrinth and all its delights. He never tired of the subject."

"You don't think... He can't be dead." Sarah stood numbed, letting Hoggle bandage her finger.

Hoggle's reply was rough with emotion. "I don't see how not, if he was in all this mess. Nothing could survive this."

"He's not dead." Sarah stumbled away from her friends, picking over the piles of rock until she came to a mound of splintered wood and shredded white silk. "He wasn't here when this happened, I know he wasn't." She picked up a stone with both hands and hurled it away behind her, then reached for another.

"My lady..." Sir Didymus hesitated. "The events of the morning have taken a toll on thee. Thou art still in recovery and perhaps we should take our leave of this place..."

Sarah continued as if she hadn't heard, digging through the stones. "He's alive. Don't ask me how I know it. I just do."

"Sarah," Hoggle was gentle as he touched her arm, looking fearfully at the debris of the fallen tower. "If Jareth's still alive, then where is he?"

She sat back on her heels, holding up what she'd found. A single owl feather, mottled brown and white. Sarah was pale as milk and her hand shook as she let the wind take the feather and carry it away. Her reply, when it came, was so quiet that it, too, was almost stolen by the wind.

"He's gone back to where he came from. Oh... What have I done?"

* * *

_A/N: And here now I'm a tiny bit stuck. Oh, the story will continue--no fear of that-- but I'm not sure when the next update will be, because I've barely started it and I don't like what I have so far. I'll continue to work at it, usually these things just take time to come unstuck.  
_

_Comments/reviews welcome, particularly if you wish to comment on the temporary writer's block.  
_


	8. Chapter 8: An Unexpected Journey

_Author's Note: The writer's block worked itself out. Eventually. Sometimes it just requires you to start writing, regardless of whether or not it's good, in hopes that better words will follow. Thank you to everyone who wrote to encourage me.  
_

**_Ymir-chan_**_, you asked if Sarah's dream was real. Hmmm. I think all I will say is that sometimes, the line between dreams and reality isn't always a clear one-- particularly not in the Labyrinth. Glad you're enjoying the story...  
_

_**LadyRhiyana**, the King of Death is...well, he just is. My inspiration was from Greek/Roman myth about the Underworld, but I'm not sure if that really answers your question. As for why there is so much power in Sarah's wish, I don't think that will ever be fully explained. It's really just more of that "be careful what you wish for" lesson that Sarah hasn't fully learned, along with the concept that words do have more power in the Underground. Thanks for reading-- the part with Death is one of my favorite parts, too, along with Jareth's flight from the tower._

_**QueenOfHearts3**, I'm floored you actually reviewed every chapter, thank you. Your comments made me laugh, and I enjoyed seeing your play-by-play reactions as you read along. As for why Sarah would wish the Goblin King away...well, he'd just been taunting her with the possibility that she could easily return home and forget all about the Labyrinth and her friends. It's not a flattering implication about her character and he wasn't particularly gracious about it, so it seemed appropriate that she should wish that he would go back to where he came from. Sarah believes that turnabout is fair play. She's also so flustered by his presence that she can't come up with a more clever comeback._

_For **Solea** and everyone who had suggestions or sympathy for the writer's block, thanks for the excellent advice. Fortunately, the problem wasn't that I disliked the story too much to continue or that was bored with it, I just didn't like the particular way the next chapter began. Content and story direction was all right, but the actual execution needed some tweaking and I'd rewritten it several times before I was satisfied. I will never post a chapter merely out of obligation to the readers, simply because it would bother me too much to see it. I'm terribly anal-retentive that way. This took me a lot longer to write and revise, and the result is the longest chapter yet. You'll have to read it to decide if that's a good or bad thing.  
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**__****

* * *

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**Chapter Eight: An Unexpected Journey  
**

Pale and resolute, Sarah sat down at the library desk with The History of the Labyrinth in her lap. Spread out on the desk in front of her was the map she'd pulled from the ruins of the tower, and she smoothed out the wrinkles and folds with a careful hand. It was much more finely-drawn than the history book's maps, with greater detail and place names written in an elegant, flowing script. She did not doubt who had created it, and the knowledge made her hands shake. Try as she might, she couldn't banish the look on the Goblin King's face before he turned from her. Rage, despair... and betrayal. She hadn't expected that, and the memory of it made her feel sick inside. Sarah thought she knew who he was-- someone cold, cruel, dangerous. _He might be all those things, _thought Sarah. _But I can't bear to see him hurt... _She give anything to take back those words. Sarah clenched her hand into a fist, and the pain of her cut finger cleared her mind. She couldn't think about that, not now.

"My lady, I do fear I do not understand." Sir Didymus spoke from his precarious perch on a bookshelf. "Why would His Majesty flee now?"

Sarah paged through the book quickly, not looking up. "I believe... it is because I wished it."

"Sarah!" The dwarf was genuinely shocked.

"It's true, Hoggle. I... didn't mean to. But I thought I was dreaming, and he made me so angry..."

"Canst thou not unwish it?" inquired Sir Didymus.

"It's not that easy." Hoggle interrupted. He sat heavily on the floor, his back against the door. "Words have power here, and you can't unmake what's said just like that." He snapped his fingers.

"He's right." said Sarah. "I tried to fix it, really, I did."

"If your guess is right, Sarah, he'll be forced to return to where he came from whether he wishes it or not."

"Then thou art a powerful sorceress, indeed." Sir Didymus said softly. "There is no one in the Underground who could do such a thing against the Goblin King's will."

"You must believe that I'm not, Sir Didymus. Back in my own world, I have no abilities. But here... here, it's different somehow. I don't understand it at all."

_But the King of the Goblins had fallen in love with the girl, and given her certain powers..._

What was that? Sarah shook her head to clear it. She couldn't afford to daydream now.

"Forgive me, my lady. It is not that I doubt your word, but it is strange that His Majesty would be compelled to leave in such a manner. I fear he is not at all well."

Sarah thought back to Jareth's white face and the blood on his shirt. "I think you're right. But I'm more afraid that he may not be able to return."

Hoggle's answer broke into her thoughts. "That would be the end of the Labyrinth, and the end of us all."

"I won't let it happen." Sarah scanned the book determinedly. "We'll just find him and bring him back."

"Back? Back from where?" asked Hoggle. "Nobody knows where he's gone."

"I think I do." Sarah put her finger on the page.

_...records the earliest sightings of the King in the Silverwood, heart of the Underground. Legends say this is where all of the Labyrinth began, from whence sprung the first of its creatures and all life as we know it. It is not surprising to speculate that the King himself came to being in this magical place, although he has never confirmed nor denied such claims..._

"You're going by that book?" Hoggle asked incredulously. "A history written by _goblins?_"

"I'm afraid I must agree," added Sir Didymus. "Our goblin friends are a stalwart bunch, but they are not exactly known for their scholarship..."

"It's the only clue we have, and it's better than nothing. Hoggle... You said you knew of the Silverwood forest. What can you tell me about it?"

"Precious little." The dwarf got to his feet and studied the map. In a far corner was a small notation and he tapped it with his finger. "There."

Sarah looked at the map in dismay. "But it's so far."

"It's further than you think." said Hoggle grimly. "The Silverwood is many miles from here, a long journey on foot. I've never been there, but... I've heard strange tales. It's not a place you want to go, Sarah."

"I may not want to, but I think I have to, Hoggle."

Sir Didymus straightened. "Not alone, my lady. I offer my services to thee as both guide and protector in thy noble quest."

"Right." said Hoggle. "You've never been there, either!"

"It is true," the knight admitted, "But I have much experience in foreign campaigns, and--"

"I'll go alone."

The two friends turned disbelievingly to Sarah.

"You can't be serious." protested Hoggle. "There are many parts of the Labyrinth, some wilder than others, and the Silverwood is wildest of them all. Nobody goes there if they can help it, and it's no place for a girl."

"No one doubts thy courage, my lady." said Sir Didymus, "But--"

"No arguments. I'm the one responsible for the mess we're in, and I'm the one who can fix it. You two thought so yourselves when you summoned me here."

"Yes, but we didn't mean _this_."

"I didn't mean to do what I did, but it doesn't change anything." Sarah's voice softened. "And I think the kingdom needs you both here. Sir Didymus, who else will care for Ludo while he's sick? He's your brother, you have a sworn duty to protect him. And Hoggle, someone needs to run the kingdom. You're the closest thing to Jareth's heir. He said he'd make you a prince."

"Prince of the Land of Stench!" cried Hoggle, "That's not the same thing at all, and you know it! I can't let you go off on your own like that."

"And I can't just sit here and watch the Labyrinth being slowly destroyed." Sarah set her chin stubbornly.

"I don't care if--" Hoggle began.

"She's right." Sir Didymus said suddenly. "Friend Hoggle, thou knowest as well as I that we have no way of returning her to the Aboveground. His Majesty is the only one who can do that, and if we cannot find him, then Sarah will be trapped here with us. If we do not want her to share our fate, we must give her a chance. I would gladly go with my lady, but we both have duties that bind us here. She is the only one who can go, and go she must."

The dwarf sagged in defeat. "I just don't like it. There has to be another way."

"There isn't." Sarah knelt and put an arm around Hoggle's shoulders. "If I don't find him, then there's no hope for me ever getting back home. Something tells me I can do this, Hoggle. Please... You have to trust me."

"My lady may not be a sorceress, but she is not without her resources." offered the knight hopefully. "She has beaten the Labyrinth before. Might she not do it once more?"

"It's not that," fussed Hoggle, "I just don't like seeing her go off alone, especially not after Jareth."

"I know. But there doesn't seem to be any other way." Sarah knelt and put her arm around the dwarf's shoulders. "It's okay, Hoggle. I know you would come with me if you could."

"Damn right I would." Hoggle brushed at his eyes. "And don't you forget it. Now, now, don't fuss at me, missy. Just got something in my eye is all."

* * *

"Now?" said Hoggle. "Can't this wait until morning?"

Sarah and Sir Didymus rushed around Hoggle's cottage, turning out the large chest and stuffing the contents of his pantry into a leather knapsack.

"His Majesty already has a considerable start." said Sir Didymus breathlessly. "Time is of the essence."

"I can't believe you're encouraging her in this." The dwarf said in disgust. "I agreed there was no other way, but it doesn't mean I have to like it. And rushing off like this with no preparation is just foolhardy, that's what."

"We _are_ preparing." Sarah pointed out. "And we'd be done a lot faster if you helped."

Hoggle grumbled inaudibly for a bit. Finally, he said,"You're squashing that bread, Didymus. Apples and heavy stuff on the bottom, bread on top. Foreign campaigns, my fanny..."

Hoggle packed the rest of the food, then fetched a small dagger and a stout walking stick from the woodshed. "From my younger days." he explained. "It's not much to defend yourself with, but it's better than nothing. And if you go on foot--"

"If?" asked Sarah, accepting the knife and the stick. "Is there any other option?"

"There might be one." replied Hoggle mysteriously. "If you can ride."

Sarah hesitated. She'd had a few lessons, but nothing formal. "Not well. But I could do it if I had to."

"Then get your things and come with me. There's a few advantages to being the gardener and caretaker around here."

* * *

"She's beautiful." breathed Sarah, approaching the horse shyly. Tall and slender of leg, she was blacker than a starless night, and Sarah held out her hand to her. The mare's nostrils flared at this unfamiliar scent, and she tossed her head warily before allowing Sarah to stroke her neck.

Hoggle watched in approval. "Her name is Rumor. She's the King's own, and he never lets anyone else ride her. On foot, you'd never catch up with him, but riding you'd have a fighting chance."

"Will she carry me?" Sarah's eyes never left the spirited mare.

"Ask her yourself." Hoggle nodded toward the stall, then went to fetch the rest of Sarah's supplies. "Jareth claims she understands everything you say to her."

Sarah combed her fingers through Rumor's mane and rested her cheek on the mare's. She breathed in the sweet, musky scent of hay and horse and felt the horse shift and lean into her body. She remained still for a long time.

"I don't know if you understand what I'm saying," she whispered finally, "But he's in trouble, Rumor. It's all my fault."

Rumor nickered restlessly, but didn't move. Sarah brushed her hand down the horse's velvet nose and told her all about the dream, Jareth's flight from the tower and its collapse. Rumor considered it quietly and nibbled the collar of her shirt. Sarah sighed and fished a wedge of apple from her pocket and fed it to her.

"Now I need to find him and make things right, and I can't do it without you. Will you help me?"

The mare snorted and gently shouldered Sarah aside. She nosed the stall door open and walked through, then looked back at the girl expectantly.

"I'd say that's a yes." Hoggle stood at the entrance to the stables, hands on his hips. "Now watch carefully, you'll have to learn how to handle all her equipment yourself. Rumor won't take a bit and bridle, so don't even try. She'll carry you as far as you need to go, all you have to do is give her the lead and stay in the saddle."

"That might be all I _can_ do."

Hoggle scowled at her. "Sarah, when you keep saying things like that, it doesn't exactly bolster my confidence."

"Sorry."

* * *

It was nearly noon before Hoggle was satisfied she could saddle and unsaddle Rumor herself, then brush her down. Sarah had tied back her long hair, and now had streaks of dirt on her face and a smudge on her nose. Along with the smell of hay, there were definitely less savory scents, mainly of horse. Hoggle glanced at her curiously.

"You...have a little something..." he gestured to Sarah's face and offered her a bucket of water.

"Oh." Sarah splashed her face and dried it on a rough cloth the dwarf gave her. "What's the matter?"

"Nothing." the dwarf busied himself with checking the fastening son the saddlebags. "I was just noticing that you're different since you came back to the Labyrinth. You've changed."

"In a good way, I hope." Sarah said wryly.

"I think so." The dwarf gave her a long, measured look. "You're growing up. And it's not just that. You're not the same silly girl you used to be. But you haven't lost whatever it was that brought you here, either. So many mortals do, you know. They grow up and can never come back again."

Sarah nodded slowly. "I think I know what you mean, Hoggle. For a long time, I didn't understand what to think of my adventures here. It was easier to believe they weren't real, and I thought I _was_ being grown up to forget about such stupid things. I almost lost you all because of it."

She took Hoggle's hand in hers. "But I promise I won't make that mistake again, Hoggle. Whatever happens, I'll never doubt you're my friend."

Hoggle patted her on the back. "Yeah, well. Thanks. I mean, you'll always be my friend, too." He coughed in embarrassment. "Where _is_ that ridiculous furball of a knight, anyway?"

Moments later, Sir Didymus came riding up, and when he dismounted, Ambrosius flopped to the stable floor and lay there panting and casting reproachful gazes at his master.

"Forgive me, my friends, but I had to return to fetch something of great importance."

The little knight drew out a red velvet pouch and held it out to Sarah with a flourish. "For thee, my lady."

Sarah opened the drawstrings of the pouch and puzzled, she pulled out a small mirror edged in gold.

"It is no ordinary mirror, my lady, but a gift from His Majesty, for years of loyal service. I have its mate here." He drew an identical mirror from his own waistcoast. "His Majesty once told me they would show me whatever I desired. Long ago, there was another lady, but..." Sir Didymus cleared his throat while his friends pretended not to notice. "Hoggle and I will keep one, and thou shalt take the other. In this way, perhaps we may yet provide some guidance on thy journey."

"It is wonderful," Sarah embraced the little knight. "Thank you."

"Best be off." said Hoggle gruffly. "Half the day's gone already. I don't deny that mirror may come in handy, but Sarah, you take care. Remember things aren't always as they seem in the Labyrinth."

"Good luck to you, my lady!" Sir Didymus called as Sarah mounted Rumor. "And courage!"

"I won't let you down." she said determinedly. "And whatever I do, I won't come back without him, I promise."

"Don't say that." said Hoggle quickly. "You return safely, that's what counts."

Sarah nodded and allowed herself a small smile at her two friends. Then she took a deep breath.

"It's now or never, Rumor. Let's go."

Sarah touched her heels to Rumor's side and the mare was off, picking up her paces until her long strides leaned into the wind and her rider could do nothing but hold on for dear life. The dwarf and the knight watched her until she disappeared into the distance.

"If he hurts her, so help me I'll kill him." Hoggle muttered softly.

Sir Didymus glanced at his friend, but wisely said nothing.

* * *

Dawn had never been a more welcome sight to him. The first golden rays of the sun stole over the horizon, slowly banishing the dark to softer shades of lavender and blue while the scattering of stars across the heavens faded away. The Goblin King could not appreciate the beauty of the sunrise, but he was grateful for the warm breeze that washed over him. Owl's wings were not made for long distance flight, and now they were stiff and cold. But there was no help for it.

As soon as Sarah had spoken the words, Jareth felt it-- an unmistakable, almost painful pull to the north. Although he tried to fight it, the wishspell could not be countermanded, not without a price. It drove his flight like the fury of a storm, so he'd flown for hours without stopping. At times, only his anger kept him from dropping in weariness, and he did not know how long he could hold this form in his weakened state. But now, he was far away enough now that the wishspell might let him rest, if just for a little while...

Below, he recognized the Merandanon river, winding through the hills like a silver ribbon until it dipped into a small valley, lush with forest. Skimming over the treetops, he felt his control slipping, bit by bit. The owl form was leaving him. With his last strength he held on to it for as long as he could, tree branches lashing his changing form as he fell. When he landed with a jolt, it was on the springy turf near the water's edge. Dipping a hand into the river, he drank thirstily, then fell back in exhaustion. _I shouldn't be out here in the open_, he thought. _It's not safe._

But Jareth lacked the strength to move. Every part of him ached, and the bandage on his side was sodden. He touched it tentatively, but pulled back his hand with a grunt of pain. Underneath, the unhealed gash was on fire, he could not even bear to remove it to see what damage had been done. Steeling himself, Jareth rolled onto his side. The sun dazzled his eyes so he shut them to the world, curling up around the throbbing pain that lanced down his ribs. _She's done this to me,_ he thought in despair. Unable to heal the Labyrinth or himself, unable to do any but the smallest of ineffective magics. And now, he was headed back for the very place he'd hoped to never see again. _Gods, how I hate her, but no more than I hate myself. I've been a fool, and it has cost me everything. And yet, even now if..._

A breeze off the river caressed his torn flesh, and Jareth shivered.

_Oh, Sarah..._

_

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_Comments/reviews welcome._


	9. Chapter 9: The Chase

_**Author's Note:** Hmmm. Well, if the previous chapter caused some anxiety and tears(!), I'm afraid this one isn't going to make people feel much better, at least not for the time being. In fact, the next few chapters may be a bit rough.  
_

_**MidnightLady**, thank you for your kind words. It's funny you should say that about Hoggle and Toby. A minor quibble I sometimes have with many stories is that they sound too dumb for my tastes... particularly Hoggle, who sometimes ends up being portrayed as little better than a simpleton. Neither of them really appear that way to me, not even Toby as a five year old. I also hate writing baby-talk (or Ludo-talk, for that matter), so I've avoided it in great part for my own sensibilities. But I appreciate the feedback and I'll keep an eye on that._

_**LadyRhiyana**__, great imagery re: Jareth, and exactly what I imagine, too. I also like the idea that Sir Didymus has a past we don't know about. He is flighty at times and maybe a little fixated upon heroic deeds, so people tend to underestimate him._

_**QueenOfHearts3**, I like that you review each chapter. It's nice to get that immediate (and specific!) feedback for what you write. That was indeed the introductory paragraph or three that was giving me trouble. The first rough draft was somewhat similar, but lacked enough depth of feeling and connection between what happened to Jareth and Sarah's decision to look for him. I needed to add more of that in, but it took me a while to sit back and realize what was missing.  
_

_Oh, and to clear up the issue of Underground food, not all of it is poisonous to Sarah. But judging from her reaction to Hoggle's tea, there are some things which are not deadly to him and Sir Didymus that wasn't so harmless for her. My apologies for the confusion, in hindsight, that could've been written a little more clearly._

* * *

**Chapter Nine: The Chase**

It was all Sarah could do to bend low over her mount's neck, the reins dangling loosely from her hands as the let the mare set her own speed. Lessons were never like this. A docile walk, maybe a lively trot was all she had done. Rumor didn't run, she flew, the passing trees and the walls of the Labyrinth a blur beside them. Surely no horse Aboveground could travel at such a speed, and maybe it was just as well._ Stay in the saddle, Williams_, Sarah said to herself._ Just stay in the saddle. Rumor will do the rest._

The road leading further away from the castle and its gardens wound through sparse woods, and in the distance Sarah thought she could see small goblin villages with smoke rising from crooked chimneys. Even the trees were choked with thorn-vine, bent like wizened old men cloaked in its crimson flowers and twining around the fallen trunks until they were completely hidden. Here, their fragrance was sweet and overpowering, and Sarah clutched at the pommel of her saddle, suddenly dizzy. Rumor seemed to sense her unsteadiness, but only quickened her pace until they were away from the wood and in the open air where the green hills cradled a rushing river. She did not dare consult the map that was carefully folded and tucked in her shirt, lest she lose her grip and break her neck, but Sarah felt sure it could only be the river Merandanon that flowed to the heart of the Silverwood.

They rode for hours, and the sun began to sink low in the sky, setting it afire in reds and golds. Rumor had begun to tire, her footing unsteady, and now there was no path for Sarah to follow except the river. Finally halting in a copse of trees by the water, Sarah nearly fell from Rumor's back in fatigue, her legs aching and unable to hold her. After a brief rest, she unsaddled her mount and gave her a brisk rub-down. Rumor grazed quietly at a distance while her rider set up a temporary camp.

Although hungry, Sarah was too tired to build a fire. She half-heartedly ate the bread Hoggle had packed. Afterwards, she bathed face and hands in the river, shivering as the icy water hit her skin. It was not yet twilight and the air was cool, a breeze blowing back a few strands that had worked themselves loose from her ponytail. Sarah gazed far downriver, wondering how much futher she would have to go.

And then she saw it.

It wasn't much, just a flash of white wings rising out of the trees that caught the sun's last dying rays. Fatigue forgotten, she leapt to her feet and cried out, but it did not stop. Its flight was awkward and slow, with none of the grace she'd remembered. Rumor had seen it too, the mare was alert again and her ears were perked forward as if to listen for her master's call. They stood frozen like this for what seemed like an eternity, horse and girl silhouetted against the fading light. Soon it was too dark to see its wounded flight, and something in her heart ached. The mare nuzzled her comfortingly, and she twined her hands in the horse's mane.

"We're so close, Rumor. He's not going as fast as he could."

Sarah tried not to think about why, instead wrapping herself in a heavy cloak and settling on the grass with her pack as a pillow. Overhead, the trees swayed in the wind like dancers, and the night sky filled with stars. Sarah thought of the Goblin King's ruined tower, and its crystal ceiling. Tonight she would sleep as Jareth had for many nights, under the dome of the heavens. Rumor carefully sidled close, as if to comfort her rider. Sarah curled on her side and cradled a damp cheek in the curve of her arm. A night wind was blowing in off the river, carrying the sweet scent of grass and clover, water and starlight. Far away, an owl's cry echoed through the night, and Rumor nickered softly as she stood watch over the girl.

"We'll find him." Sarah whispered.

* * *

_He dreamed. The river had become an ocean roaring in his skull like thunder, and somewhere in the background a clock ticked away each relentless second. His thirst was great, and the sound of the water drove him mad, waves lapping just beyond his reach. He reached for it to no avail, only to have one wave larger than the rest sweep over him, filling his eyes and mouth with water until he thought he would drown. Jareth closed his eyes and prepared to die. But his last breath was not of water, but rather musty air, reeking of the grave. He opened his eyes and he was back in the Halls of the Dead, his throat in the grip of its iron-crowned king. The King of the Dead drew his great blade, which made a harsh rasping sound like steel over glass. _

_"All men die, Goblin King." he whispered, his breath like frost on Jareth's cheek. "And I always claim what is mine."  
_

_The blade thrust home, and Jareth gasped. First it froze like a shard of ice in his side, then it burned like someone pressed a hot iron to his skin. He twisted and screamed, and the King released him. He fell for what seemed like an eternity...  
_

Jareth woke, puzzled at first to find himself on the riverbank covered in mud with bloody weals criss-crossing his arms and shoulders. His side throbbed painfully, and something hammered away in his head like a drum, becoming louder with each passing second. And then he remembered. _The Tower... Sarah. _The wishpell swept over him with a hunger that made him dizzy, forcing him upright even though his limbs protested.

Jareth fought it long enough to gulp down water from the river, sluicing some over his face and shoulders so its iciness stung his open cuts, and then he was dragged to his feet. His owl form came to him quickly before he even knew what was happening, and the evening air ruffled the downy feathers beneath his wings. _Release me, damn you!_ He raged to the empty air. But there was no one to hear, and the wind seized him up like a leaf and whirled his battered body away. He would again fly all night, he knew. He would fly until he fell from exhaustion as the wishspell drove him, a fierce compulsion he could not deny.

_Don't defy me, Jareth..._

The sun was blood-red and sunken in a sky of flame as it waited to be swallowed whole by the night. The day was dying.

And so was he.

* * *

The next day dawned cool and clear, and Sarah was up and away before the sun began its journey across the sky. Her whole body felt like one giant bruise, leg and back muscles unaccustomed such strenuous exercise. Although Rumor's strides were as smooth as the mare could make them, Sarah still felt each jolt in the road. Shifting in the saddle did little good, and on their infrequent breaks, she stretched her stiff legs and wished Hoggle had thought to pack something for sore muscles.

They raced along the banks of the Merandanon now, and before the sun was high, they reached the spot where Sarah had been sure she'd seen the Goblin King the evening before. The trees grew more thickly along the water here, but leaves and freshly broken branches littered the ground. Looking up, Sarah saw a shred of white silk caught on a branch, fluttering in the wind. She dismounted and Rumor took the lead, almost knocking Sarah over in her eagerness to reach the water's edge. There they found a spot on the riverbank where the grass had been trampled down. Sarah knelt down and pressed her hand to the turf, warmed from the sun. There was a dark copper-brown patch on it that she feared was blood, but didn't dare look closer to see.

"He was here, Rumor." her excitement was feverish, and she barely noticed the twinge of complaining muscles as she clambered back into the saddle. "The book was right, we know where he's going."

Rumor snorted, as if to say, _Of course we do._

By noon, the landscape had changed. Trees gave way to open plain, green and gold grass tall enough to whip the tops of Sarah's shoes as they rode. When the wind blew through it, she could hear a thin, eerie wail, almost like singing. Rumor didn't like this, and kept as close to the river, where the grass was thin. When they stopped for a quick rest, the mare was careful to place herself between the girl and the edge of the high grass, and refused to leave her station even for a drink of water.

Sarah sat cross-legged on the riverbank, chewing on a piece of dried meat. She hadn't thought to ask Hoggle what animal it was from, and decided it was just as well she didn't know. Carefully taking Sir Didymus' mirror from its pouch, Sarah held it in her hand, unsure of what to do next. She breathed on its surface, wiping it with her sleeve, then propped it up against a river rock so it caught the fading day's light in the corner.

"Sir Didymus? Hoggle?"

Nothing happened for a long minute, then the mirror's surface clouded, and Hoggle's voice came through it as if from very far away. Slowly, his face came into view, peering nearsightedly through the glass.

"Sarah? Are you all right?"

"Yes." she replied in relief. "We're fine. Is Sir Didymus okay?"

"More than fine." groused Hoggle. "I should've left him in charge and come with you. This morning, he organized the goblins to start pulling and burning thorn-vine, then went to visit Ludo. He's so happy, it's like he's back in the king's army again."

Sarah hid a smile behind her hand. "That sounds very useful."

"I suppose. If only he could drill it into those wretched goblins' heads to stand upwind of the fires. The fumes from the thorn-vine is poisonous, too."

"Oh, no! Was anyone hurt?"

The dwarf shrugged. "Not really. Goblins are a sturdy lot, more so than your kind. I'd forgotten how fragile you humans could be when..." Hoggle coughed. "Well, they're a tough lot, anyway. The smoke made a few sick to their stomachs, but they'll get over it. I'm leaving the mess for Didymus to clean up when he gets back."

Sarah paused for a moment to contemplate the imagery of a castle full of vomiting goblins, then decided not to dwell on it.

"I saw him last night, Hoggle. We're on the right track, I just know it."

"Saw him?" The little man's voice sharpened. "Was he... himself?"

"Not exactly. He's hurt, Hoggle. I called out to him, and I don't know if he heard me. But he didn't stop."

"He can't stop, Sarah." said Hoggle gently. "He won't be able to until he reaches the Silverwood."

Sarah put the dried meat away, her appetite gone. "Hoggle," she began, "What if traveling like that kills him? I found blood on the ground where he rested yesterday, a lot of it. I don't know how long a person can live--"

"Best not to think about it. If he's injured, then no one can say what will happen." the dwarf replied heavily. "But he's tougher than you think, too."

Sarah hoped so. She started to speak again, but Hoggle's face began to fade.

"Sarah! I can't see your face. Before this thing quits working, tell me where you are!"

"Near the Merandanon river, Hoggle. The map says we'll soon come to Firethorn valley and--"

"You watch yourself." said the little man, his voice growing fainter. "Don't try to go through the valley, those thorns will tear--"

And then Hoggle was gone, and the mirror's surface was an ordinary mirror again.

* * *

Sarah had little time to contemplate Hoggle's dire warning about Firethorn valley, for soon the plains abruptly dropped away and the land was little more than bare rock and scrub. Even the river was more subdued here. Its path dwindled to a shallow, sluggish flow that brought horse and rider gently sloping downhill until they met with an expanse of thorny bush that stretched on for miles on either side. In the distance, Sarah could see where the bushes ended and the Silverwood began. Dismounting, she got as close as she dared. The firethorn shrubs were thickly clustered, with malevolent red thorns each as long as her hand and dagger-sharp.

"It's no good, Rumor. Hoggle was right, we can't go through this or we'll be torn to pieces."

Rumor stood and looked back at her, waiting. Sarah sighed. There was no help for it, the only way clear through was the river itself.

Wrapping her mount's reins around her fist several times, Sarah took a deep breath and stepped in, with Rumor delicately walking behind her. Here, the Merandanon was shallow enough that the water didn't go over Sarah's waist in the deepest part, but she didn't dare climb on Rumor's back. The bottom was treacherous with slippery rock, so they picked their way gingerly downriver, keeping far from the sides of the riverbank where the firethorn grew. It was strangely quiet in the valley, no bird sang and nothing crept about in the underbrush. Sarah saw the occasional flash of a silver in the water as fish darted away from her path, but the only noise was the methodical splash of Rumor's legs churning the water.

It took them several hours to cross, and by the end of the valley, both horse and girl were shivering with cold and the light was growing dim. Sarah was eager to be through, fearing to be caught in the valley after dark. When the last of the firethorn was past, Sarah stumbled over to the riverbank to haul herself out. Her feet were numb, and she stumbled, hand outstretched. As she hit the ground, something sharp pierced her palm and she cried out.

It was not as long as some of the thorns she'd seen earlier, but it was still wickedly sharp and the thorn had gone deep. Looking at it made her feel faintly ill, but she grasped one end and pulled it out. _Like the sword in the stone,_ Sarah thought, giddy with relief. But her hand was beginning to itch and burn, and blood welled up from the wound. Hobbling over to the river, she immersed it in the current. Sarah dreamily watched the water as it rippled over her hand, carrying away the blood in dark swirls of crimson.

The sun was slipping over the horizon. The water felt icy on her fevered hand, but if she could just leave it in there a little longer... Sarah blinked. There was something odd about her reflection. She held still until the surface of the river calmed. Yes, she could see herself, but not as she was... A grave, unsmiling Sarah looked back at her, hair tumbling loose over her shoulders and gowned all in white. On her forehead shone a blue jewel, and it sparked with an otherworldly light as the other-Sarah tilted her head, as if listening to someone calling. The other-Sarah turned, words forming on her lips. _My love, I come..._

* * *

_Not really a cliff-hanger ending this time, this chapter was kind of quiet. Don't worry, we get back to Jareth soon, very soon... _

_Comments/reviews welcome.  
_


	10. Chapter 10: Wander the Wood

_**Author's Note: **I enjoyed reading all your comments, and some (like **Water Spirit's, **"_J_areth and Sarah should just freaking eat that sexual tension. They'd never go hungry again.") made me laugh out loud. **Heist**, thank you for your kind words. I do rather like dramatic pauses, and it shows. **LadyRhiyana**, I have read The Silver Chair, but it's been a while and I had forgotten about that scene--as wonderful as it was. I'm fond of slipping in many other references to my favorite books, but the similarities there were unintentional. It's still neat though. **Water Spirit**, to answer your question about why the Silverwood is so far from the Labyrinth if it is the Labyrinth's origin, I can't really say. There could be several reasons, but I'm reluctant to go into detail here in case it comes up later and I change my mind. Calling it an arbitrary placement is accurate enough. **QueenOfHearts3**, thanks for your comments. Sir Didymus and his lost love may come up in other stories, but I don't think more will be said about it in this one. It's nice to think he didn't spend his whole life guarding a bridge by the Bog of Stench, though. As for the reins, that was my slip. I don't actually know anything about horses or their gear, aside from what I've read in books. But it makes sense that Sarah would still need something to hold on to even if they didn't actually serve a purpose in guiding Rumor. Oh, and the last scene? I don't think it's what you think it is...  
_

_**Midnight Lady**, thank you for the reminder about the Labyrinth's surrounding territory. The slight change of scenery was a deliberate decision on my part, based on the loophole that she was leaving the Labyrinth from a different path than the one she entered in the movie. But you're right, there should be a desert wasteland mentioned there, and I will edit a very small addition to Chapter Six, the section where she is looking at places on the map. You're also correct to note the lack of creatures. I'd written a short scene with one in the previous chapter, (after her conversation with Hoggle through the mirror) but unfortunately, it ended up on the cutting room floor in the final revision. I deleted it from my files, but if there is enough interest I will rewrite it and edit it back in. It's fairly short, as I don't like messing around too much with added characters. Readers can drop me a comment if they want to see it.  
_

_Anonymous reviews are now enabled. Without further ado...  
_

_**

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**Chapter Ten: Wander the Wood**

_My love, I come..._

"What is this?" asked Sarah in a whisper. "What am I seeing?"

The other-Sarah was walking swiftly a white hallway, her hair streaming out behind her like a banner. A pale blue light shone from one end, and before it stood a tall, dark-haired man, his face in shadow. _My Queen..._ He beckoned to her, and on his finger was a ring of dull metal with a tiny ivory skull set in it. The other-Sarah stepped toward him, hand outstretched and a smile curving on her beautiful lips. Around the two, the air grew colder, the shadows darker. When the man spoke, it was the barest whisper and it carried a breath of winter that escaped his pale lips in a ghostly cloud. _My immortal beloved..._

There was something horribly wrong about this scene. Try as she might, Sarah could not make out the man's face, but his nearness to the other-Sarah chilled her to the bone. If he touched her, embraced her...

"No!" cried Sarah, "Don't!"

She leaned in closer, but the hoof of a horse landed squarely in the reflection, scattering it in a hundred silvery water droplets. Dazed, Sarah looked up. Rumor stood casually by her side, drinking deeply from the river and ignoring her rider completely. But somehow, she knew the mare's interference was no accident. Pulling herself up by the stirrup, Sarah eased back onto dry land, still cradling her hurt hand.

"I don't understand." she said, shivering in the growing dark. "That was me... but it wasn't me at all."

Trying to shake off her uneasiness, Sarah tore strips of cloth from her cloak and bandaged her hand as well as she could, smearing it with a healing ointment Hoggle packed. It smelled like mint and rosemary, and she prayed that it wouldn't prove to be as dangerous as his toxic tea.

Starting a fire with one wounded hand was even trickier, but Sarah kept at it stubbornly, needing the warmth and light. Caught in a small patch of land between the firethorn and the forest with its ghostly trees, the night didn't seem so friendly this time. Sarah sat as close to the bright flames as she dared, and after a while, Rumor gracefully folded her knees and lay down beside her rider. Curling up with her back against the mare's side, Sarah closed her eyes and thought about the vision in the water.

Something about it was familiar, and yet she had never been in such a place, never worn that dress or the jeweled crown. Neither did she know the man in the vision, she only knew that he awoke in her a sense of deep foreboding. His voice was hollow as a tomb, and even with the heat from the fire on her face, Sarah shivered again remembering it. _My Queen..._

But it could not be. She was ruler of nothing, and no one's queen.

* * *

The next morning, Sarah found herself lingering over the campsite, checking and re-checking to make sure the fire was completely out, tidying away the remains of breakfast and packing up her things. And always, she kept one eye looking over her shoulder, to the forest. _The Silverwood, _Sarah remembered. _Back when it was just a name on a map, I thought it sounded like a beautiful place. _Now that she was face to face with it she felt something more like dread...

Ordinarily, she loved the woods. On weekends before she left for college, Sarah used to ignore her step-mother's protests about safety and hike alone in nearby parks, walking for miles accompanied only by her thoughts. But this was a different sort of wood. The trees seemed ancient and secretive, with branches that blocked out the sunlight. With trunks tall and straight as the mast of a ship, their widespread boughs had leaves that were a curious fan-shape, lifting faces of deepest jade to the sun with pale undersides the color of a waning moon. When the wind blew, they all trembled, sending ripples of green and silver and making the trees appear to writhe and shiver like a live thing. She would have to walk beneath those branches, leaving the golden morning behind to wander the murky shadows of the Silverwood. And right now, she would swear that something was looking back at her from those very shadows.

Rumor gave her a hard nudge in the back to interrupt her reverie, then stood impatiently while Sarah saddled her. The mare did not seem the least bit frightened, only restless and eager to be off. Sarah slipped out Sir Didymus' mirror and warmed it in her hand. She called Hoggle's name, then Sir Didymus. Nothing happened. Biting her lip, she stowed it away for safekeeping. _If something happens to me there, they'd never know. I might never return. But I can't go back alone._ As if she could hear her rider's thoughts, Rumor nuzzled Sarah's shoulder gently. The saddlebags packed, Sarah again hesitated. The Goblin King was there, she felt sure of it. She climbed in the saddle and steeled herself as Rumor carried them both closer, first into the dappled sunlight at the edge of the woods, then the darkness. _Jareth is here,_ she reminded herself. _And he does need me, whatever he might say. _

Sarah could almost feel the shadows swallow them both, and her last thought before leaving the sunlight entirely was, _But he may not be the only thing hidden in the Silverwood._

_

* * *

_

He had flown all through the night, hearing no sounds but the rush of his own tired wings and the keening of the wind. Now the morning sun glinted off the waters of the Merandanon, and illuminated the frightening expanse of Firethorn valley beneath him. He'd come across it at dawn, when the pale gold light seemed to touch each thorn with a ring of flame, and the wind blowing through it sounded like the quiet gnashing of many tiny teeth. Every breath pained him now, his shoulders and chest on fire. Jareth let the wind carry him as much as it could, and hoped it did not desert him. _If I must land, let it not be among the firethorn,_ he thought feverishly. It was a place he did not go even in his full power, but in his owl form... There would be nothing left to find but bones held together by scraps of skin and feathers, impaled on a firethorn bush. Then again, if it came to that, there would be no one left to find him at all.

_Just a little while longer..._

It was there, just ahead, a vast expanse of green that sprang up as if out of nowhere. The Merandanon plunged into it and disappeared, hidden by the thick canopy of leaves. His remaining strength allowed him to soar just above the treetops, which he soon regretted. The cool, damp air rising from below misted his feathers and made them heavier. He beat his wings fiercely, trying to rise higher, but only succeeded in gaining a few feet.

And then as suddenly as it had seized hold of him, the wishspell was gone.

Its disappearance was startling and abrupt, like the wind had fallen from beneath his wings. Relief flooded Jareth's body. He was free! But he soon found it wasn't entirely a blessing. Without the compulsion forcing him steadily onward, weariness overcame him and once again, he could feel his owl form leaving him. Finding an opening in the treetops, he dropped down, slowly at first, but with dangerously increasing speed. _Isn't it ironic_, he mused cynically. _Freed at last, only to come to this..._

If anyone had been there to witness it, they would have seen a very curious sight. A great white bird tumbling out of the sky without sound, bursting through the canopy of leaves and clawing the air as it fell. Wings became fingers, limbs... ghostly plumage turned to silver-blond hair and white clothing over a slender form that fluttered as he fell, eyes still turned despairingly skyward. Still with no sound, nor a single cry, the figure plunged into the darkly silver depths of the Merandanon with curiously little splash.

It did not surface again.

* * *

It was quiet beneath the trees. Not even the river made a noise, the waters slipped soundlessly over glistening, moss-covered rocks, illuminated by a pale grey light that filtered through the leaves overhead. The forest floor was lined with fallen leaves that gave off a pleasantly damp, earthy scent that increased with every careful step Rumor took. The mare showed no alarm, but was watchful, and so was Sarah. She peered into the dim hush of the forest, trying to make out the path ahead. But the path, like the river, had so many twists and turns that she could see nothing but trees and more trees. There was no sign that the Goblin King had passed this way, and a faint sense of doubt crept into Sarah's thoughts. She had not forgotten the anger and pain etched on his face at their last meeting. If he was here, waiting... He might be angry still.

To take her mind off her grim thoughts, Sarah once more took out the map. There was plenty of space left, but the Goblin King had left it curiously empty; The Merandanon ran to the very edge of the Silverwood, and then nothing more. _Why?_ she wondered. Not because he didn't know what was there, Sarah knew. He'd left it incomplete for a purpose. Jareth's relaxed hand was now familiar to her eyes, and she thought she could picture him sitting in his study before the fire, head bent over the map, a slender hand smoothing out the paper as he wrote. Sarah blinked irritably. Her imagination was running away with her again, she would not think of such ridiculous things. Giving the map an annoyed shake, she looked closer. Even the handwriting had changed. The name of the forest was written in darker ink, as if someone had pressed the quill too hard to the paper. Even the letters were cramped and tense. Something had unnerved him, and it troubled her.

Far behind them, a branch snapped. Sarah jerked around in the saddle, but saw nothing. The woods looked the same as ever, but a trickle of cold sweat ran down her neck. She could feel something behind them, closing in on them quietly like a shadow. Rumor lifted her ears, alert and scanning the trees. Her pace quickened almost imperceptibly. Then another branch snapped even closer, as if something large and ponderous was making its way toward them and picking up speed as it approached. Rumor did not hesitate. Tucking her head down, she sprang into a dead run, leaving Sarah little choice but to bend low over the mare's neck to avoid the tree branches that whipped past her head. Rumor wheeled and twisted through the dense woods, leaping fallen trees with grace and speed, but still keeping the river within sight. Whatever was following them was closer, and still she could see nothing. Sarah's heart clenched in fear, but she had no breath to scream. Instead, she wound both her hands into Rumor's mane and closed her eyes to the dizzying blur of the river and trees as they sped past.

The map was forgotten, and it drifted from her hand like a leaf, spinning in the wind until the river caught and whirled it away.

_

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_Comments/reviews welcome. _


	11. Chapter 11: Dead or Alive

_**Author's Notes: **Thank you everyone, for your kind comments. Although I still find it hard to believe at times, it's rather nice to think someone else is looking forward to reading this story the way I look forward to writing it. _

_**QueenOfHearts3**, I thought you might be surprised. And special thanks go to you, because even though you didn't realize it, your comment was responsible for prompting a rewrite of the first paragraph of the last chapter. I think it is much improved from the previous draft (not that anyone will see that) and adds more to the story. **Water Spirit,** you asked if I was going to go into detail about the other side of the Merandanon. Not exactly... The chapter below does say where it ends, however._

_**

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**Chapter Eleven: Dead or Alive  
**

At first Jareth thought he was dreaming again, the drowning dream-- only this time, the water that filled his nose and mouth were real. He'd forgotten how deep the river ran here, as if it sought to carve a path to the very heart of the earth. Disoriented and dizzy, Jareth struggled to hold his breath and struck out with a powerful kick. When his head and arms broke the water's surface, he gasped for air and the water tumbled him along until he was able to catch hold of a piece of driftwood. Locking his arms around it and laying his cheek against the rough bark, he let the river carry him where it willed.

When he later woke, he was lying on his side on the sandy bank of the riverbend, just before it emptied out into a small lake. Jareth laughed hoarsely. He knew exactly where he was. Slowly pulling himself out of the water, he paused for breath. The gash in his side no longer bled, but it still burned. It was the only part of him that was warm, and he pressed his hand to it, the bandages long gone. The answering stab of pain helped clear his mind enough for him to get to his feet, half-stumbling his way around the lake until he reached the shelter at the far side. Even after all these years, he could find it with his eyes closed. It was just as he'd left it.

At his touch on the door handle, a small, silvery chime rang out over the clearing. Jareth fell across the threshold and collapsed on the hearth.

"Fire," he managed to whisper.

Bright flames sprung up before him, kindling the wood left in the fireplace. The stone was quickly leeching the remaining heat from his body, but he would be warm soon. Jareth crept closer to the flickering heat and closed his eyes. With the wishspell binding him or not, it no longer mattered. His strength was utterly gone, and without it, his kingdom would soon falter and fail. He'd been wrong about the fire. The cold permeated to the core of him now, penetrating deep into bone and blood until he felt his heart slow to a languorous beat within him. He wondered how long it would take him to die, lying here like this, and once more he cursed himself for a fool. Unbidden, an image swam up from the depths of his foggy memory of a slender, dark-haired girl with starlight on her face. _My Sarah... _He had reordered time, he had turned the world upside down... all for her. The bitter laugh that choked him was little more than a harsh escaping of air. _She was never mine... Only my destruction._

For of course, Jareth had known it would come to this. He'd sworn it would never happen, but his curiosity about the girl was his undoing. Once he'd set eyes on her, his fate was already written.

He knew how this story ended.

He'd seen it years before, a dark vision of the Labyrinth's end days reflected back at him in the pool of the Silverwood forest.

* * *

All Sarah could hear was her own breathing that came in short, frightened gasps, and the beat of her heart that matched the thundering of Rumor's hooves as they fled. Whatever was chasing them had fallen a little behind, crashing through the sparse undergrowth and trampling fallen branches underfoot. Rumor had gradually turned away from the river-path, and now they were in an older part of the forest, where the trees were spaced further apart. There were fewer obstacles to dodge here, and she could run even faster. Although she was afraid they would lose themslves entirely, Sarah had little choice. Leaving the river would make them harder to find, and she trusted Rumor's speed to outrun the beast.

In the distance, she thought she could see more light breaking through the dim shadows, a clearing perhaps. _If we could just reach it,_ Sarah thought, _I could at least see what's following us._ Perhaps Rumor felt the same, for the mare doubled her efforts, aiming for the pale green light that filtered through the trees. She twisted right, then left, and in a final burst of speed, horse and rider broke through to the light. They were in a larger clearing than Sarah had imagined, and in the center was a large pool of water with a surface like a mirror reflecting the window of sapphire sky above. Rumor wheeled quickly to face their pursuer, and Sarah held her breath...

But nothing was there. The forest was strangely quiet and empty, and all around them trees with trunks like Roman columns stood like silent sentinels. Sunlight warmed her back, and they stood there for a few uncertain moments. Then somewhere close by, a bird began to sing, a thin, sweet melody that rang through the clearing like a tiny golden bell. Sarah waited and watched.

Whatever it was, it was gone.

* * *

Hoggle stood on the balcony and surveyed the castle yard proudly. The thorn-vine had taken hold almost everywhere else, but since he and Sir Didymus put the goblins to work on it night and day, they'd managed to at least clear the castle walls and keep it cleared. Certainly, the goblins grumbled a great deal, but having been a member of the party that vanquished the goblin army five years earlier, Hoggle was afforded a certain amount of respect. Surprisingly, there were no hard feelings.

"S' nothin'." One goblin magnanimously proclaimed. "Pass t' rhum."

That was the other key to success, an idea dreamed up by Sir Didymus. Each goblin's rhum allowance had been doubled... but only if he'd completed the day's quota of vine-pulling. To be honest, it was Sir Didymus who mostly rallied the troops, as he called it. Between caring for Ludo and overseeing the goblin workforce, the little knight was entirely in his element. And as for Hoggle...

Well... Hoggle had discovered the fine art of delegation.

It was with this in mind that Hoggle now tiptoed to the throne room. No one was about at this time of day. It was hours until the noon meal. Sir Didymus had left early that morning to see to Ludo, and every goblin worth his rhum was out on the castle grounds, weeding. There was no one to see him do what he was about to do. Still, Hoggle was a cautious dwarf, and he looked around carefully before approaching the throne. The low seat with its wide curved back was one no goblin ever dared to touch, but Hoggle had always been curious. Sarah had left him in charge, after all. And if he was in charge, shouldn't he get to sit on the throne... maybe just once?

He stopped short of touching it and listened like a hawk, ready to jump away at the last minute. But no one came, and the only noise was the screeching of goblins outside. Hoggle looked for one last time to his left and right, and then clambered up on a footstool and eased himself down on the throne as warily as if it were made of glass. But no sooner had his rear touched it then Hoggle leapt up, one hand clapped to the back of his breeches, which were now smoking hot.

"By the King's crystal balls!" he yelped, swatting at the flames repeatedly.

He stifled a yell, hopping from one foot to the other and finally sitting in a bucket of water in the corner. His backside sizzled and steamed, and Hoggle sighed with relief and cast a surly look at the throne.

"Never again," he muttered, "I know my place, no need to teach me the same lesson twice..."

Standing up, he twisted around to assess the damage and found that only his pocket had caught fire, the seat of his breeches were merely scorched. And then Hoggle saw what had caused it. Sir Didymus' mirror was still tucked in the shreds of his pocket, still hot to the touch. Hoggle eased it out and juggled it from hand to hand until it cooled, and then looked at its gleaming surface. It had been two days since Sarah had left, and there'd been no word from her after their initial contact. Hoggle and Sir Didymus had both tried to use the mirror, but could receive only fleeting images: Sarah racing across the plains, Sarah wading in a river holding onto her mount's saddle for balance. Whatever magic bestowed upon it was fading, and quickly. But Hoggle was determined to give it one more try.

"Show me Sarah." he commanded, feeling glad there were no goblins to catch him talking to a mirror.

The mirror's surface clouded, but did not show him a clear picture. Instead, he caught a quick glimpse of Sarah, leaning over the still surface of the river as if something about her reflection fascinated her. Then he saw her again, terrified and huddling low on Rumor's back as they ran through an ancient forest. Hoggle's heart nearly stopped, but in the very next scene, she sat on Rumor's back, breathing hard with her hair tumbled about her face. Something in her expression was wary, but no longer frightened. The images faded, and the mirror cooled in Hoggle's hand.

He sighed and tucked it away in a pouch dangling from his belt, where he could keep a better eye on it. He was afraid for the girl, but was she was doing all right. Sarah looked tired, even scared at times. But she'd kept going, and Hoggle knew that if anyone could find the Goblin King and bring him back to the city, Sarah would.

"That's my girl." he said softly, giving the mirror a pat. "Never give up."

Darting a quick glance around the corner, he sneaked out of the throne room and went to change his sodden breeches.

* * *

The birdsong broke the spell. Rumor calmed down immediately, paying no more heed to the forest shadows, and began cropping the lush grass by the water's edge. Seeing this, Sarah slid off her back, welcoming the chance to be out of the saddle. Their hasty flight had left its mark. _I won't be able to sit for at least a week,_ thought Sarah dourly. She discreetly massaged her backside and looked around the clearing. It was as beautiful of a place as she'd ever seen, all green and gold and quite unlike the rather grim surrounding woods. Sarah now saw that they were not far from the mouth of the river which curved gently around before emptying into the lake over a low rocky ledge, creating a gentle waterfall that was barely taller than she was. Then at the far side of the lake, she saw something curious-- a thin trail of smoke rising from a stout chimney.

She'd nearly missed spotting the cottage. Half in sunlight, half in shadow, it neatly blended in with the trees. Glancing back at Rumor for reassurance, Sarah started around the edge of the lake, wondering who could live in such an out of the way place. Her footsteps faltered a bit. They might not be friendly. Maybe they didn't want visitors at all, which seemed only logical given their choice of habitation. Anyone who lived in these woods craved solitude, not the company of strangers. Sarah sighed and began walking again. Desirous of company or not, she had to see who was there, and ask them if they'd seen the Goblin King.

As she drew nearer, she understood why the cottage blended in so well with its surroundings. Made of the same weathered silver-gray timbers as the trees themselves, it looked like a natural extension of the woods. Moss covered the stone tiles of the roof, and a flowering vine with starry white blossoms climbed up a shuttered window, mingling with the ivy. Underneath the eave of the roof was a pile of neatly stacked firewood, and just to the side of the cottage was a crooked little tree. With its long, narrow leaves drooping, it looked oddly out of place next to the massive silverwoods. Something about it looked familiar, but Sarah could not think why.

In another minute, she'd forgotten about it entirely, because the door of the cottage stood partway open.

"Hello?" Sarah's voice echoed oddly through the clearing, and she paused just outside the cottage. "Is anyone there?"

There was no answer to her call, and none to her timid knock. She gave the door a tentative push, and it creaked fully open. Sarah gasped. A bright fire in the hearth illuminated the dimness of the room, and sprawled before it was a slender figure, the shirt on his back in tatters and a half-healed cut curving up the side of his ribs. Head cushioned on an outflung arm, he lay deathly still, his face like ivory in the firelight.

Sarah had found the Goblin King.

* * *

_Comments/reviews welcome. _


	12. Chapter 12: Mystery By Moonlight

_**Author's Notes: **What, didn't the last chapter relieve anyone of their suspense and anxiety over the fate of the Goblin King? No? Ah... Well, read on..._

_

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_

**Chapter Twelve: Mystery By Moonlight  
**

It was a simple one-room cottage, with a bed on the far side of the room next to an old wooden chest. A table and single chair stood in one corner next to a small pantry, and by the front window was a writing desk. Opposite the fireplace was a large wardrobe twin to the one in her chambers at the castle. Not a single speck of dust could be seen, and the cottage looked like its owner had just stepped out and expected to return any moment.

Sarah knelt on the stone floor beside the Goblin King, wanting to touch him but not certain if she dared. Now that she was so close, she could see the slight rise and fall of his chest. He lived. For that alone, Sarah felt a rush of indescribable emotions. _But just barely, _she thought. Beneath his eyes were violet shadows, and smudges of dirt and dried blood ran down his cheek. His pale blond hair stuck out in bedraggled spikes, and the knuckles of his bare hands were scraped and battered, something that seemed most strangely vulnerable of all. Unable to help herself, Sarah reached out and brushed a strand of hair from the Goblin King's face and whispered his name.

His eyelashes fluttered, but he did not stir.

Sarah sat back on her heels. She couldn't leave him like this. Even in front of the fire, he was cold to the touch. Moving quickly, she rummaged through the chest on the far wall and found sturdy woolen blankets. Striping the sheets and thick coverlet off the bed, she heaped them on the floor and laid the silk over the rough wool. Sliding one corner of the pallet beneath the Goblin King's shoulder, she was able to roll him over and off the stone floor. Tucking the pillow beneath his head and wrapping the coverlet around him, she stepped back, satisfied, then went to retrieve her pack from Rumor's saddle.

Less than an hour later, the last of her water from the waterskin was bubbling in a small copper pot over the fire. Sarah stirred in some pieces of dried meat, apprehensive about her lack of cooking skills that didn't involve a microwave. She was so deeply engaged in watching to make sure the pot didn't boil over that she almost didn't hear the Goblin King stir. Turning around quickly with a wooden ladle in her hand, Sarah found two mismatched eyes gazing narrowly back at her.

"If you've come to finish the job," said the Goblin King in a rasping voice, "You've chosen a remarkably ineffective weapon."

Sarah flushed and put down the ladle. Even bundled up on the floor like an invalid, the man could still make her feel like a fool.

"You're alive."

"Disappointed?" Jareth asked with a slight sneer. "Believe me, so am I. Death would have been a welcome end after the events of the past few days. Instead, I find myself here with the very last person I desired to see."

The words were as harsh as a blow, but she shrugged them off, spooning hot broth into a small wooden bowl.

"You can't always get what you want." She set the bowl on the hearth to cool. "Not even you."

Jareth gave her a pointed look. "That much is painfully obvious."

Sarah ignored him and nodded at the bowl. "Drink this."

"No." he replied flatly.

"No?"

"Odd, this cottage never had an echo before. I said 'No', and I meant it. My circumstances might be greatly reduced, but I'll be damned if I'm lowering myself to eating goat soup."

Sarah stared at the bubbling pot in horror and disbelief. "I've been eating _goat?"_

"So it would seem." The Goblin King sounded tired, but a faint smile played upon his lips.

"It doesn't matter." Sarah ignored the sudden queasiness of her stomach. "It's food, and you look like you haven't eaten in days. You need this."

Jareth's eyes narrowed. "I believe I've already stated my feelings on the matter."

"You have." Sarah was calm now. "But _I_ believe you don't have the the strength to stop me, should I decide to pour it down your throat. You can force me to test my theory, or we can skip that unpleasant charade and you can drink the soup."

The Goblin King was silent for some time, simply looking at her, and Sarah feared he might call her bluff.

"You've changed." he said mildly. With great effort, he eased himself to a sitting position.

Sarah sagged in relief. "Many things have changed."

Jareth drank slowly, his eyes never once leaving her face. When he finished, he wordlessly handed the bowl back to her, accidentally brushing his fingers against her own. The slight contact was electric, and she jerked her hand away. She looked quickly at the Goblin King, but Jareth appeared not to notice. He lay back on the pallet, arms crossed beneath his head, and Sarah once more found herself under his piercing scrutiny. She had a feeling she was about to pay for her small victory.

"Tell me, Sarah. Why are you here?"

"I want to make things right." She carefully avoided his gaze and busied herself stirring the pot. "I said some things that I didn't mean to say, and... I didn't mean to wish you away. I made a mistake."

"Just the one?" The Goblin King inquired silkily. "How generous of you to acknowledge it. But how naive of you to think you can fix so easily that which has been broken."

"I didn't say I thought it would be easy! But now that I've found you, we can go back," Sarah's eyes were wide and beseeching. "You can return to the castle and save the Labyrinth."

Jareth twisted irritably, as if he wanted to throw off the blankets. "What, the shining knight to the rescue again? Haven't you listened to a word I've said?" he snapped. "It's not that easy. All of this didn't happen overnight, it's been leeching through my kingdom like a slow poison for four years. There is nothing more I can do."

"Don't say that," she begged. "Hoggle, Sir Didymus... all the goblins. They're depending on you. You love this kingdom, I know it. You can prevent it from being destroyed."

"Ahh, Sarah." Jareth leaned back on the pillow and closed his eyes. "Still so young. You don't yet know what it is to see what you love come to ruin."

Sarah drew her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them. "It must be terrible." she said quietly.

The Goblin King opened his eyes and gazed at her with a strange mixture of anger and something else... longing?

"Perhaps one day you'll find out." he said simply, turning his face away.

Sarah added another log to the fire and watched him from the corner of her eye.

"I want you to know that I never intended for all this to happen." she said softly. "I didn't want you to die just because I--"

"Made a wish?" The Goblin King still did not look at her. "Indeed not. You never _intend_ to do any harm, as I recall. Just as you never _intended_ to put your baby brother's life in danger all for a selfish whim. Regrettably, your good intentions aren't much protection for the people you harm."

Sarah winced and swallowed hard against the rising lump in her throat. She deserved that.

Jareth shook his head slowly and spoke to the shadows flickering on the wall. "Wishes have power here, Sarah. You still don't understand that, after all you've experienced in my Labyrinth."

"I know that now. And even though it may not be worth very much... I'm sorry." The last part was choked out and Sarah rubbed her sleeve across her eyes, glad his gaze wasn't on her. She watched him in awkward silence, then cleared her throat. "That wound... It needs washing."

At her mention of it, Jareth seemed to go cold and still as a marble statue.

"I can see that it's hurting you, and that might mean it's infected." she continued cautiously. "Hoggle gave me some medicine, it might help."

Sarah unwrapped the clumsy bandage around her hand and held out her palm for the Goblin King to see.

"I stabbed myself with a firethorn yesterday, and you can barely see it today. It doesn't even hurt at all."

It was true, the deep puncture had already become a pinkish star-shaped scar on her palm. But Jareth did not look at it. Instead, he stared at Sarah with something akin to fear in his eyes.

"You bathed it? In the river?"

"Of course." Sarah replied, a little affronted. "I do know a little something about first aid, I'm not a total idiot. And the river water was clean, I drank it with no problems."

But Jareth appeared not to hear. "Blood," he murmured under his breath, "Blood in the water. Gods..."

"What are you talking about?" Sarah asked, alarmed. Did he know something about her vision in the river?

Jareth just shook his head, tight-lipped. "Nothing you need know."

"All right, there's no need to tell me," Sarah replied in exasperation, getting to her feet and grabbing a bucket lying in the corner. "We can clean that cut out and bandage it. I'll get some more water from the lake."

"Not there! Never there." Jareth cried, dragging himself to a half-sitting position so quickly that he gasped and his hand flew to his side. "There's a spring behind the cottage, fetch all your water from it. Don't go near the pool."

Sarah's first instinct was to ask why, but Jareth collapsed back on the bed, his face white. She took a step toward him, but he shook his head, his voice strained.

"Just go. Fetch the water, and I will wash it myself."

Sarah hesitated, biting her lip. She turned and left the cottage.

* * *

"My friend, we have a rather serious problem."

Hoggle was used to hearing similar phrases from Sir Didymus by now, whose skill in art of mild understatement was newly infamous among the goblins. According to the little knight, a castle full of vomiting goblins had been "an untidy domestic situation", the out-of-control brushfire started by an errant weed-puller was "a slight grounds-keeping error" and Ludo bellowing in his sleep and nearly collapsing the north wall with his rock-calling was "a poor communications issue". He'd treated them all as minor annoyances, and sure enough, had dealt with them swiftly and effectively. If Hoggle wasn't certain of Didymus' utter sincerity, he'd swear the little knight enjoyed having one chaotic mess after another to straighten out.

But if Sir Didymus was admitting there was a serious problem, Hoggle needed to sit down and prepare for the worst. This time, however, he was taking no chances. His Acting-Majesty sat on a wobbly three-legged stool a safe distance from the throne, with a chicken crate as his desk. He sat there now and braced himself for what would assuredly be terrible news.

"All right, tell me."

Sir Didymus nodded. "Perhaps you are aware of the heatwave?"

Hoggle mopped his brow. In the past few days it had grown unbearably hot, hotter than the oldest goblin had ever remembered it getting since the year-of-the-broken-umbrella. The sun was scorching, baking the earth until it resembled an overdone loaf of bread. Hoggle wrung out his handkerchief into a bucket by the side of his stool and wiped his forehead again. In contrast, Sir Didymus looked cooler than an iced turnip, with not a hair out of place.

"Go on."

"Clearing up the minor grounds-keeping issue we discussed earlier required a great deal of water," began Sir Didymus. "But we were fortunate enough to save The Goat and Potato."

Inwardly, Hoggle groaned. The Goat and Potato was a goblin tavern near the junkyard below the castle, difficult to distinguish from the junkyard itself except that it smelled even worse. Quite frankly, he'd rather it burned to the ground, although he supposed that open flames near a stockpile of rhum would've yielded truly calamitous results.

"Thank goodness," he said out loud. "What is it then?"

"Using so much water has caused the level of the wells to drop considerably." said Sir Didymus with regret. "And with no rain, I fear our water supply may soon run dry."

Hoggle cursed. He hadn't even thought of that. "Well, what can be done about it?"

"Verily, I have given it much thought. The remaining water can be rationed carefully to last, and the goblins can be given extra rhum."

"And how is the supply of rhum?"

"Ample," replied Sir Didymus, "For the time being. We must gamble that the rains will replenish the wells before it runs out."

Hoggle shuddered. A castle full of hot, cranky goblins and no rhum would be anarchy, and it would be every dwarf for himself.

"Ration the water," he said to Sir Didymus, "And put out the fires. We can't have more accidents like yesterday's now, we can't afford to use the last of our water."

"Excellent decree, Acting-Majesty." said the knight approvingly. "I will see that it is done. We can but hope for our luck to change, and perhaps my lady will return with the King."

Hoggle thought of the thorn-vine. Without the goblins burning it off, it would be mere days before it took over again.

"If he does return, he might not have a kingdom to rule." he said grimly. "We'd better all hope for rain, instead."

He didn't know how those words would come back to haunt him.

* * *

The spring gushed clear and cold from a gap between two large boulders, first spilling into a shallow stone shelf worn gently concave by the water's passing, then further down into a small pool. Moss grew like deep green velvet, softening the edges of the rock surrounding the water with clusters of purple and white violets and occasionally, the bold scarlet and yellow flash of wild columbine. Sarah filled her bucket, then quickly splashed her face and hands in the cool water. She looked longingly at the pool below the spring. It seemed like ages since she'd had a proper bath. As soon as she could, she'd have one, cold water or not.

When she returned with the water, Jareth lay quiet with his eyes closed, but she could tell from his breathing that he did not sleep. Sarah moved the soup pot off to the side and poured some water in a larger kettle to warm. She poured the rest in a shallow washtub and placed it near the Goblin King's pallet along with a clean handkerchief from her pack.

"There's bread and cheese in the pantry if you're hungry." He spoke so suddenly that Sarah jumped a little.

"There wasn't anything there when I looked earlier." she said hesitatingly, not wanting to contradict him in his uncertain temper.

"Look again."

Sure enough, now there was a fat little wheel of cheese and a loaf of brown bread. Sarah glanced back at the Goblin King, who still hadn't moved.

"How did you do that?"

"I didn't."

"Then how--"

"It's the cottage itself." Jareth braced himself with both hands and sat up, pushing the coverlets to one side. "It tries to anticipate your needs."

Sarah took the bread in both hands. It certainly felt and smelled real. She tore off a chunk and sliced into the cheese, which oozed from its hard rind like butter. Smearing it over the bread, Sarah ate hungrily.

"Like my chambers at the castle." she said after a while. "It knows what I want?"

"Nobody could anticipate that." replied the Goblin King testily. "You don't even know it yourself. It knows what you _need_, that's entirely different. You may express whatever desire you like, but the spell has its limits."

Sarah had her back half-turned to him, and now she could hear the tentative splashing of water. At least he was talking to her again. Although, she was quick to correct herself, she didn't see why she should care.

"That's useful." she ventured.

"Quite."

Jareth scrubbed several days' worth of dirt off his face and neck, then surveyed the ruins of his shirt. It was little more than rags, but some of the shreds of silk were molded to his back with sweat and blood. Removing them would be painful, but it had to be done. Only he couldn't possibly do it himself. He glanced over at Sarah, who was feigning deep interest in the loaf of bread and edging nervously toward the door. The Goblin King gritted his teeth. He hated this part.

"Sarah," he said in as casual of a tone as he could manage, "I believe I require your help."

* * *

The process was tedious and long. Sarah gingerly soaked the remains of the shirt on Jareth's back with warm water until they could be pulled away from the skin in strips. Sitting in a chair by the light of the window, he bore it stoically, although Sarah wondered how he could. Bruises and bloodied weals criss-crossed his pale back and each one had to be painstakingly washed out and Hoggle's ointment applied. Jareth did as much as he could, and then it was time to deal with the gash on his side. He gritted his teeth and scrubbed at it with the warm water and soap, flushing it out well with clean water. The pain was like tearing his flesh anew, and when he was done, he wiped the sweat from his face with shaking hands.

"The cuts and scratches will heal quickly, but that's a bad cut." said Sarah in a low voice. Something sparked in her memory, the ringing of steel against steel. "What happened to you?"

The Goblin King's face took on a dark, shuttered expression. "It's no one's concern but my own."

"I'm sorry," she said apologetically, "I don't mean to pry. It's... It just seems like it's something I should know."

"Once again, you are wrong." Jareth bandaged his side with tight, angry motions. He raised himself from the chair and opened the wardrobe, pulling out a fresh shirt. From a small drawer he took out a pair of leather gloves, which he quickly drew on before picking up a clean pair of breeches. He turned and gave Sarah a look of amused irritation.

"I believe that according to your custom Aboveground, some privacy is in order. Your choice, of course."

Sarah blushed and quickly whirled around. There was more splashing of water, and she tried not to think of what might be going on behind her back.

"You might think of a bath yourself," said the Goblin King, with more than a hint of dark amusement in his voice. "I promise you, I'm in no condition to spy upon you."

Glad to have an excuse, Sarah grabbed the soap and ran.

* * *

The pool by the spring was cold, but Sarah didn't mind. After making sure there were no eyes upon her, Goblin King's or otherwise, she stripped off her traveling clothes and stepped into the water. Pulling up handfuls of mint, she lathered soap and scrubbed her hair, combing out the wet strands with her fingers. It was a relief to be clean again, and she hated having to pull on her old clothes to walk back to the cottage in the fading light.

Thankfully, the Goblin King was fully dressed and rummaging through the wardrobe. He tossed her a white shirt and loose silk breeches. "A bit large, but it will have to do."

Sarah waited until he'd turned his back, and dressed hastily by the fire. A fine-toothed comb of ivory lay on the hearth, carved with birds and flowers. She sat and worked out the tangles from her hair as Jareth watched her disquietingly from a dark corner.

"It's funny you said that earlier," said Sarah, drying her hair by the fire. She glanced at Jareth from the corner of her eye. "Blood in the water. After the firethorn got me, I had a strange day dream..."

The Goblin King visibly stiffened, but kept his voice nonchalant. "Do tell."

Sarah told him of her vision in the reflection of the Merandanon while she put away the kettle and bundled up the ragged remains of the shirt into a corner. She described the sapphire crown, and the man whose face was in shadow. She even told him of the strange nightmares she'd had at home, of an endlessly flowing river and the hall of bones.

Jareth was silent for a long time.

"A dream," he said, gazing into the fire. "Nothing more."

He walked to the window, favoring his bandaged left side and leaning heavily on the sill for support. The moonlight on his face revealed a man exhausted, shadows once more beneath his eyes.

"The hour grows late." He turned from the window. "Take the bed. I will sleep by the fire."

Wrapped in an extra blanket, Sarah curled up on the down mattress. The moon slipped through the front windows, a cool silver beam of light across the cottage floor. In the hearth, the dying embers of the fire glowed red and black, and the Goblin King turned restlessly on his pallet. He did know something, Sarah was sure of it. She'd watched his face as she described what she'd seen, and there was something like fear, then resignation. Those images held only mystery for her, but they meant something to Jareth.

_Nothing more than a dream,_ thought Sarah.

She didn't believe him.

* * *

_**Author's Note: White raven**, I'm honored that you think my story worthwhile to link to in your LJ. Thank you, and I hope the rest of it so far hasn't disappointed your high expectations._

_And on a related note, thanks to everyone who gave the story a chance even if it didn't sound particularly exciting. I don't think it covers much new Labyrinth fanfic ground myself, but it doesn't mean a writer can't try to cover familiar territory in their own fashion. I appreciate all your comments, which persuade me to believe I am succeeding in some small measure. _

_ I've also been doing pretty well about updating every week/week-and-a-half or so, and don't foresee any hiatus in writing for the future, for the reviewer who expressed concern about that. Working on this story is a little treat to myself at the end of the day, and I cannot give it up. You are stuck with me until this is done.  
_

_Comments/reviews welcome. _


	13. Chapter 13: Blood and Water

_**Author's Notes: **I can't tell you how amazed I am that the hits on this story have climbed over 6000. I don't deny it's getting more difficult to write as we near the end, but the unexpectedly warm reception each chapter receives makes it worthwhile. All the comments have been immensely cheering as I continue to pound out the rest.  
_

_This chapter is a bit of a monster in terms of length, and it's like the next few will be the same.  
_

_**

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**Chapter Thirteen: Blood and Water**

Jareth awoke just after dawn, when the light stole across his pallet all pearly gold and gray. He rose quietly, being careful not to wake Sarah, still asleep on the bed in the corner. A cursory check of his body showed that his quick healing ability was not entirely gone-- the minor cuts and scratches were nearly well, and the pain and heat in his side had eased considerably. His first shaky steps reminded him that he wasn't entirely recovered, but it was still far better than he'd dared to hope. _Food and rest,_ he thought, his mouth twisting mirthlessly. _How easily remedied some things are. _

Pulling on a light wool cloak, he paused to glance at the sleeping girl. Sarah was curled like a sleeping cat, one arm beneath her pillow and lashes dark against her pale cheek, her breathing was deep and steady. If he were fortunate, she would sleep for hours yet, and he allowed himself a few more stolen moments standing by her bedside. The night before, it had been difficult enough to bear the touch of her fingers upon his. More than anything, he'd wanted to seize her slender hand, feel the cool skin of her palm against his flesh. He hadn't allowed her to apply the herbal salve to his back, fearing what he might do. Even now, he knew he shouldn't do this, shouldn't stand here simply to be near her when she was unaware of his presence. And yet he found himself rooted to the ground, unwilling to move.

Her white shirt was something he'd often worn to bed, silk lighter than a whisper and yet so sensuous he was aware of every movement. Now it lay warm and close against her bare skin, the thin material softly enfolding her body like the petals of a morning glory. The thought made him burn, a slow fire kindling within like the glowing coals of a forge. One breath, one word from her... and the flames would leap up and devour him.

At last, he couldn't help himself. Jareth knelt down and touched a stray lock of her hair spread across the pillow, bringing it softly to his lips. It was like silk, with a fragrance that intoxicated his senses: wood violets and spearmint, mingled with a scent that was uniquely hers...

He let the lock fall, whirling angrily and stalking to the door, refusing to look back. _I am a fool._

_

* * *

_

Mist rose off the waters, undeterred by the shafts of pale golden light that pierced through the cover of the trees. The sun was not yet high, there was still time. The Goblin King stood at the edge of the pool, trying not to think of how he'd stood in the very same spot many years before. Same rosy dawn-light, same mists, and the same water with a surface like glass, beckoning him closer. For all its modest size, the pool was deep, deeper in its center than anyone had ever tested. Jareth thought it might run to the very deepest caverns in the earth, leagues underground where no light ever came. Its depths might be as dark as what haunted his dreams, only this time he hoped for a different answer.

He pulled off his gloves. In one hand, he clutched a small letter-knife he'd taken from the desk. Only a few inches long, it was sharp enough for this purpose, he would not hesitate in making the cut. He went down one one knee at the water's edge and held the blade over the water, both arms outstretched.

"Living waters of a dying land," he called softly, "Accept my sacrifice, grant me a vision true."

With a swift stroke, he drew the blade down in a broad cut across his left palm, clenching it into a fist over the water. A drop of blood quickly beaded and fell, then another, and another. They drifted in the clear waters of the pool like scarlet tendrils of smoke, and slowly, the reflection began to ripple and change.

Image after image shimmered on the surface of the water, gradually at first, then faster. With each one, the Goblin King grew colder with dread. All knew that the waters of the Merandanon were powerful, but nowhere was their power greater than here in the Silverwood. It had shown him visions of all-consuming fire, the earth splitting open into a gaping maw which swallowed the Labyrinth whole. He'd seen a countryside sheathed in ice and eternal winter, his castle razed to the ground until rock became sand, sifting through a sea of skulls... And in each vision, a dark-haired girl with eyes like forest leaves held the destruction of his world in the palm of her white hand.

"You mock me," he said hoarsely. "You show me lies and half-truths, you tempt me with what is and what might be."

His only answer was the faint rush of the waterfall. Jareth got to his feet, feeling as if a great weight had settled across his shoulders. He had his answer, but it was one he did not like.

* * *

Ludo groaned and the castle walls trembled. The heat was harder on him than anyone else, despite Sir Didymus commandeering a team of goblins to fan him night and day. Hoggle had even more cause to be grateful for the little knight's leadership skills, for it had taken all his talents just to transport the poor beast from his cave to the castle. A small army of goblins, hitched to a sledge and dragging Ludo down from the mountains, with Didymus riding proudly at the vanguard... It was enough to make even the Goblin King laugh, had he been here to witness it.

"Another one like that and the whole castle will come down." said Hoggle, worriedly looking around at the chamber walls. "Although I can't say as I blame him, exactly."

Each day had been hotter than the last, and today the heat was all the more oppressive. Smoke and soot from the brushfire hung still heavy in the air, a thick miasma that choked one's breath and stung the eyes. It was so hot that everyone wore as little as possible while remaining decent, except for Sir Didymus who refused to give up his full uniform. Even the goblins were particularly fractious today, and numerous brawls and street-fights had started even before dawn. It was as if some new dread lay just over the horizon, and everyone's nerves were frayed to the last thread.

"My brother suffers," said Sir Didymus sadly. "Alas, nothing can be done until the water patrols return."

In his wisdom, Didymus had sought to make use of the goblin's extra energy and new-found spare time by sending them far and wide on patrols to locate new water sources. Initial reports were not promising. The heat had dried up lakes and ponds all over the castle grounds and rations were tight. Both Didymus and Hoggle had given Ludo as much of their shares as they could, but he was still feverish and wasting.

"Have you had any news of my lady?"

Hoggle shook his head. "Nothing. But it can't be going well if things are doing this badly here."

"I fear you are right, my friend. But we must have hope."

"Didymus," said Hoggle hesitantly, "Do you really think she can save us?"

Perched near Ludo's head and cooling his brow with a wet cloth, Sir Didymus looked up.

"Of course." he said simply.

"I wish I had your confidence. I still think we shouldn't have let her go alone."

"My friend," said the little knight, "You have the heart of a lion, and while I am never one to refuse a noble quest, this is one my lady must endure alone. Only she has the heart for the deed that must be done, and no other."

"I don't doubt her courage,' retorted Hoggle, "But it may take more than a thousand brave hearts to get us out of this mess."

Didymus cocked his head. "No," he said with a thoughtful smile. "Only one."

Hoggle gave his friend a sharp look. "Didymus," he said irritably, "Sometimes I think you know a lot more than you let on."

* * *

"What are you doing?"

The Goblin King froze in the act of tugging his gloves back on, but forced himself to turn around slowly. Sarah had thrown her cloak over her shoulders and now stood on the grass behind him. Barefoot, and with her hair still undone, she looked even younger than her years.

"And good morning to you, Sarah." he said smoothly, the letter-knife vanishing up his sleeve. "I trust you slept well?"

"I did." she said uncertainly. "But I'm surprised to see you up so early."

"I felt the need for a breath of air." He walked past her, barely brushing her. "But I do believe it has wearied me."

But Sarah wouldn't let him go so easily. Even without looking behind him, he knew she had that intractable glint her eye.

"I saw you kneeling by the water." she said to his retreating back. "I thought you said it was dangerous to go near it."

"It is." he said curtly. "For you."

"I don't believe you. I've been in the river plenty of times since I left the castle, Rumor and I had to wade through it to get through the valley." Sarah wrapped her cloak tightly around herself. "Hoggle and Sir Didymus never said anything about it being dangerous."

"Didymus never thinks _anything _is dangerous, and your dwarf friend has never set foot outside the walls of the Labyrinth." he snapped, stopping to glare back at her. "But even they know without having to be told. The waters of the Merandanon can... alter a person, and not for the better."

Beneath her cloak, Sarah traced the scar in the center of her palm and tried to hold her voice steady. "I don't feel changed."

"You've been lucky," he said flatly. "If your friends had any idea of how foolish you were, it would frighten them out of what little wits they possess. But I'm not surprised you have so little concern for the feelings of those who care for you. If you had, you never would have left them behind in the first place."

The Goblin King turned on his heel and walked away, certain he'd hit his mark when he heard her furious intake of breath. He had little doubt that she would follow him back to the cottage, if only to get in a few angry words. _Good._ If he could help it, Jareth would see to it that she never got near the river Merandanon or the seeing-pool ever again. Her matter-of-fact recounting of her own vision in the water had chilled his heart. She had no idea how closely she'd evaded death, had no knowledge of his own part in it.

And Jareth would do all in his power to see that she would never know.

* * *

Hoggle dumped another bucket full of mud into a wheelbarrow and nodded at the goblin holding it. Grumbling a little, the goblin trundled off with his load of muck, and another moved up to take his place. The second of the remaining five wells had dried up, and Sir Didymus set the goblins to digging further down for as much water as could be found. As Hoggle himself had cause to discover, that amount wasn't much.

For the unfortunate goblin at the bottom of the well, the mud had to be hauled painstakingly up by a bucket on a rope, then lowered to repeat the process all over again. Sir Didymus had initially insisted on being at the bottom of the well, but after he'd jumped in and promptly sunk up to his ears in mud, Hoggle volunteered instead. He was beginning to regret that now. His arms were about to fall off and his back was in knots. What's more, he was certain that the Goblin King wouldn't be caught dead up to his elbows in grime and filth. At least after his long shift at the bottom of the well was over, he could trade places and work up in the light and fresh air. Not that this was a huge improvement.

Hoggle paused in pulling up another bucket and blew his nose with a grubby handkerchief. The early afternoon light was an ominous shade of yellow, and the air was thick with moisture. _ If you could grab a handful of air and squeeze it into a cup,_ Hoggle thought resentfully, _you'd get more water than you could from this dratted well. _He continued hauling rope as Sir Didymus rode up beside him, poor Ambrosius' shaggy fur looking like a wet mop.

"How's Ludo?" Hoggle started to stuff his handkerchief back into his pocket, thought better of it and threw it away.

"Poorly, I'm afraid." The knight had never sounded so disheartened. "My brother refuses all food and only took a little water. He sleeps now, but too soundly for my taste."

The dwarf sobered. He understood what Didymus did not say aloud, that Ludo might never wake.

"Does he... need anything?"

Didymus shook his head. "His last words to me were to ask for my lady. And..." The knight seemed reluctant to finish. "He said... the rocks were sick."

In any other situation, Hoggle would've laughed. But now he thought he knew what Ludo meant. It was as if the very earth were dying. Every green thing in the Labyrinth had dried up, and now the wells belched forth foul-smelling slime. More than any of them, Ludo had a close bond with the rock, it was no surprise that he felt its taint. As he thought of what to say to Didymus, a low rumble echoed through the skies.

"What was that?" A muddy goblin poked his head up from the well.

A group of goblins toting wheelbarrows chattered nervously, looking in all directions.

"It's nothing." Hoggle replied quickly. "Keep digging!"

Sir Didymus glanced up. The skies had darkened imperceptibly, and a light wind picked up from the west. His whiskers quivered.

"Something is up." Hoggle said uneasily. "I can feel it."

"The western tower." proposed Sir Didymus. "We would have a good view of whatever it was from there.

The western tower was the highest in the castle now that the king's tower had fallen, and it was also the newest structure, built entirely for weather-watching with a station at the top. Hoggle sat heavily on the tower wall, wheezing from the strenuous climb.

"Two hundred...and seventy-two...stairs," he exclaimed between huffs, "Just...to check...the weather..." Hoggle groaned and fanned himself with a fresh handkerchief. "Utter...madness..."

Sir Didymus clapped him on the back, not the least bit out of breath. "Cheer up, my friend. You did quite well, I do believe we've set a new time record."

But Hoggle was too busy hanging over the side of the tower, his mouth agape.

"Look, Didymus. I've never seen anything like it..."

And indeed, he hadn't. The bilious yellow skies were quickly giving way as angry storm clouds rolled in like a tidal wave. Even as they stood there, the light breeze had become stronger, blowing hard enough that Sir Didymus had to clutch the parapet or be carried away entirely.

More thunder sounded, closer this time.

"Rain." breathed Hoggle in relief. "We'll have full wells again and no more water rationing. A storm!" he called down to the goblins below, waving his hand wildly. "A storm is coming, we're saved!"

But Sir Didymus didn't look at all pleased. He noted how quickly the sunlight was fading, and the occasional crackle of violet lightning among the clouds.

"This is no ordinary storm. I do not think it brings our salvation..."

"Maybe, maybe not." Hoggle persisted. "Either way, we'd better get down from this tower before the lightning comes."

On that Sir Didymus could agree, and the two companions descended the stairs far faster than they'd climbed them.

* * *

Sarah watched as the Goblin King disappeared back into the cottage, fists clenched around the edges of her cloak. As much as she wanted to, she didn't follow him immediately. He'd hit a nerve, but she would be damned before she'd cry in front of him. The grass was cool underfoot, and she stood there taking deep breaths until she felt calm. There was something strange about the way he was acting. He'd been temperamental and angry from the very beginning, but last night there had been times when he seemed almost relaxed. His moods swung with wild unpredictability from one to the next, throwing her constantly off-balance.

"I am but mad north-north-west," quoted Sarah under her breath.

She shook her head. It was as if he were deliberately baiting her, but for what purpose? Sarah glanced back at the still waters and headed for the cottage. If the Goblin King wanted a fight, she would show him that two could play this game.

When she stepped inside, Jareth was sitting at the desk facing the door, sketching furiously on a sheet of parchment, his body angled so she could not see what it was.

"You're wrong." she told him. "I would never have left them if I'd had another choice."

"We always have other choices," said the Goblin King, not looking up. "They just might not be the ones we like."

"Then what other choice did I have?"

"You could've chosen to go home."

Sarah crossed her arms defiantly. "And what good would that have done? If I'd left, there'd be no chance at all of saving the Labyrinth."

"And you think by staying you have a chance?" Jareth swept the quill across the paper feverishly, not even stopping when he glanced at her with a cynical eye. "It seems to me that all you've done is make things worse. Wishing me away, then coming after me and abandoning your friends when they need you most. Still, it's all very romantic, isn't it?"

"What?" Sarah gasped.

"Not that kind of romance, I assure you." His hand paused ever so briefly, then continued. "Romantic like a fairy tale, where the clever heroine dashes off to save the day. You've always been over-fond of those silly tales, and I suppose it's too much of a temptation to try and live one. But you haven't the slightest idea of what to do now, do you?"

"And what about you?" demanded Sarah angrily. "I may not know what to do, but at least I'm trying. All you've done is sit here and do nothing. Hoggle and Sir Didymus are running around trying to save your kingdom, and you don't even make half the effort!"

"As I've told you, there is nothing I can do." snarled the Goblin King. He threw down his quill and scattered fine sand over the parchment, then blew it off with an impatient puff. "I've never pretended to have all the answers, and I don't have any now. The fate of my kingdom boils down to one moment, and it has not come. All I can do is watch... and wait."

"Is that what you were looking for out there?" said Sarah, her voice suddenly soft. "Answers?"

Jareth gave the tiniest of starts. He looked down at the parchment in his hand and seemed to see it for the first time. His lips thinned, and he crumpled it into a ball that he held tightly in his fist. When he stood, he stood so quickly his chair overturned and clattered to the floor.

"This conversation is ended." said the Goblin King, his voice deadly quiet.

With two quick strides, he hurled the wadded-up paper in the fireplace, turned and was out the door before Sarah could say another word.

As soon as he left, Sarah was on her knees, scrabbling in the fireplace with the poker. The crumpled parchment was badly scorched, but had not fallen into the center of the fire. She muffled it with the corner of her cloak and then carefully unfolded it, smoothing it out on the hearthstone. What she saw caught her breath.

Jareth had drawn a hasty sketch of a man with hollow cheeks, his body twisted around and lips half-open in a wordless cry. A plain crown sat upon hair that tumbled darkly over his shoulders, and his armor was ghostly white. The Goblin King had drawn it with reckless speed. The lines of ink were jagged and black, but the figure so life-like that Sarah almost expected it to speak. Above one shoulder, he held a heavy sword, captured in the act of bringing it swiftly down. There was something oddly familiar about the man. Sarah did not recognize the warrior's face, but as she scanned the parchment for clues, she froze.

On the third finger of the hand that grasped the hilt was a ring with a tiny grinning skull.

_

* * *

_

Sir Didymus did not know the time, for the skies were now black, as if an immense shadow passed over the castle. Outside, the goblins cheered as the first scattering of raindrops fell and water rained fast and furiously down from the heavens. Even Hoggle was jubilant, ordering that a cask of rhum to be tapped so they could celebrate the end of the draught. He stood in the courtyard, holding his arms and face up to the sky and shouting for joy.

"Don't be so gloomy, Didymus. Our troubles are over!"

The little knight shook his head, and water droplets ran off the tip of his nose. "I wish I could share your optimism." he said glumly, "Our water troubles are over, but I have a feeling that this is not the end."

As if to make his point, a loud crack of thunder sent goblins yelping and scuttling for cover. The prospect of being cooped up inside a place that reeked of wet goblin put a slight damper on Hoggle's enthusiasm. He huddled in a doorway and gazed out over the goblin city, whose streets were now small rivers.

"Maybe I spoke too soon." he muttered. "Figures."

A goblin crept up and tugged his arm. "The beast is awake. He is asking for you."

Hoggle brightened a little. "Come on, Didymus. Ludo must be feeling better!"

Ludo was awake, his enormous eyes blinking as he looked around the room. His bed lay near the archway of a small balcony, where a cooling breeze and the rain pelted through. Lifting his hand weakly, Ludo caught a few raindrops on his hand and gave a happy grunt.

"Rain at last," Hoggle told him, handing him a cup of water. "And you're looking better. Soon be back on your feet, won't you?"

Ludo's hand dropped back on the bed. "Sarah?"

"She's still away, my brother." said Sir Didymus soothingly, "But she'll soon be back. You must rest and get well for her return."

"Tired." Ludo sighed. He shifted restlessly, and they could see how shrunken his large frame had grown. His matted fur lay loosely over the bones like sacking.

"You have to try and eat something." Hoggle waved a goblin over. "Get some soup, make sure it's hot."

"Ludo... Not hungry." The beast rolled his eyes toward the window as another clap of thunder sounded. "Rocks... afraid."

Sir Didymus' whiskers twitched. "Afraid of what, my brother?" he asked urgently. "What is coming?"

Before Ludo could answer, there came a deafening crack of thunder that shook the entire castle. The candles by the beside toppled over, and the room was plunged into darkness. Hoggle cursed and fumbled for the matches, but before he could relight them, the room was illuminated by a blinding white and violet flash from outside, accompanied by a second thunderclap.

The goblins set up an unholy screeching and Hoggle stuffed his fingers in his ears.

"What's going on?" he roared, stepping outside Ludo's chamber. "Stop that noise and tell me what's wrong!"

"Lightning!" they cried shrilly. "Lightning has struck the throne room!"

Hoggle ran down the hallway, and saw that it was true. The rain had put out the flames almost immediately, but the damage had been done. The walls were intact, but the stones were blackened and scorched. The roof had caved in and lay on the floor, still smouldering.

But the most frightening sight to greet the dwarf's eyes was the Goblin King's throne, split neatly in two.

Back in Ludo's chambers, Sir Didymus groped along the floor in the dark, found the matches and set the candles alight.

"I would not admit it to anyone but thee, my brother." he said in a quavering voice. "But... I think I am afraid. The events to come will.. test us all. I must not be found wanting. I know thou shalt forgive my weakness, brother..."

He held up the candle to chase the gloom from Ludo's bedside, but it was too late. The light had gone from the tired beast's eyes and his head was tipped to one side, as if in peaceful slumber.

Ludo was dead.

"Gone?" Hoggle was back, his face slack with grief. "He can't be. Nothing could hurt him, he--"

But Sir Didymus was not listening. The little knight had quietly blown out the candle, and now walked through the open archway outside to the balcony. Unheeding of the cold rain that drenched his fur, he stood there, his head drooping to his chest.

"Hurry, my lady," he whispered, letting the howling wind carry away his words, "For I fear you do not have much time left."

* * *

It was only later that Sarah became aware of her aching knees and the cramp in her left leg. She had no idea how long she'd been kneeling there by the dead fire, the crumpled parchment still in her hand. Through the window, the light was rapidly falling away, and the Goblin King had not returned. Sarah stumbled outside, wishing she had a watch. It couldn't be that late, she thought. What...

Above the clearing, the window of sky was now overcast with dark clouds growing thicker by the moment, and the air smelled like rain. Sarah looked in vain, there was no sign of Jareth. She ran around behind the cottage to the spring, then to the small outbuilding where Rumor was quietly nibbling hay. He had not left, and there was nowhere to go except the forest. And he wouldn't go there on foot...

She gave Rumor a quick pat, then left and walked quickly to the edge of the pool. Sarah could see the gathering storm reflected in it, and now a strong wind rippled its surface. The clearing was empty. No Goblin King. Rain began to fall, a few cold drops and then a drenching torrent so that Sarah could barely see. The sketch clutched to her to keep it dry, she ran back to the cottage and slammed the door behind her.

Sarah pressed her face to the window, trying to see outside. A flash of lightning lit up the clearing as if it were high noon, and somewhere in the woods, she heard the great splintering shriek of a silverwood as it fell. The cottage was dark, and rain streamed down the pane of glass. Sarah suddenly couldn't bear the thought of being there alone.

"Fire!" she said pleadingly, her back pressed against the door.

Flames sprang up in the hearth, and Sarah gave a small scream. Sprawled across the bed in the corner was the Goblin King, his face white and his eyes like burning coals. He'd torn open the collar of his shirt, the pieces of cloth were gripped in one tightly-knuckled fist.

"Something is happening." he said in a strangled voice, "It has begun. Gods, I can feel it like a blade through my heart--"

Outside there was another loud crack and a groan as another silverwood toppled, this time so close that the very ground shook. Jareth's face twisted in pain, his back arching until it no longer touched the bed. He forced back a moan, turning his head into the pillow until his breath came in ragged gasps. Sarah ran to him, laying her hand across his forehead. He flinched from her touch, but turned his wild eyes to her. They had changed, now pale as winter and focused on nothing. Blood ran from his lower lip where he'd bitten it through.

"We're dying." he whispered.

_

* * *

_

_**Author's Notes: ** All right, nobody panic, but... There will be a slightly longer delay before the next update because I want to finish the story before I post the remaining chapters, something I don't usually do. (I've been posting chapters as they're written, or shortly thereafter.) The reasoning behind it is that I'm not actually sure how the story ends and I want to be able to write it out in full, just so I don't have to go back and edit already-posted chapters to correct whatever blunders that will no doubt be committed. However, I promise you that it WILL be finished, and the delay should not be more than a few weeks, perhaps less depending on how easily it comes to me. I'll post updates on my profile page if there's any news._

_Reference: Sarah quotes from Shakespeare's **Hamlet.**  
_

_Comments/reviews welcome. _


	14. Chapter 14: I Would Be Your Slave

_**Author's Notes: **Thanks to everyone for their patience, and for the comments, both hilarious and inspiring. If you like what you've read, please do drop me a note. Even if you think you don't have anything profound to say, I always want to hear what people liked-- or didn't like, as the case may be. So many (well, not so very many) people have added this to alerts, favorite stories, etc. without really mentioning why. I end up wondering who you all are and what made you do it.  
_

**

* * *

**

**Chapter Fourteen: I Would Be Your Slave**

Not knowing what to do, Sarah dabbed at the blood with a corner of her handkerchief. Jareth had not moved since he last spoke. This frightened her, even more than seeing him lying on the floor, cold as ice. He was awake but did not hear, his eyes were open, but they gazed blindly into the distance. Sarah did not know how to feel. Once, she might have been glad to see him like this, but it wasn't the way she thought it would be. All of that seemed like a very long time ago now.

She swallowed hard and crumpled the handkerchief in her hand. Ever since she'd set out to find him, that look of anger and betrayal haunted her every waking thought. She didn't care for him, of that much she was certain. But somehow, Sarah could not bear the thought that he was in the world and thinking ill of her...

Her gaze drifted back to the fair-haired man lying on the bed. Despite his constant barbs and cold silences, at least the Goblin King been there, solid and reassuringly real. Now, sitting in a chair beside the bed, she'd never felt more alone.

Sarah spoke to his recumbent form. "I wish you were better. I wish you were back to yourself again."

Nothing happened, and the Goblin King still drew one slow, shallow breath after another. Sarah put her head down on her hands and wept. It wasn't that easy, Hoggle had told her. Wishes couldn't be so readily undone, and not everything was gotten simply by wishing it.

"Please... Tell me what to do," she appealed softly.

No answer came. Fearing that his breathing had stopped, Sarah laid a hand on his chest, his bare flesh burning like a brand against her palm. This brought him back as nothing else had, and the pale blue eyes swam abruptly into painful focus. Quicker than she thought possible, a gloved hand seized her by the wrist, holding her away from his fevered skin.

"Don't... touch me." he said roughly. A shudder ran through his body and he released her, arm falling limply back on the bed.

Sarah rubbed her wrist, aching where his fingers had gripped it. _I will not cry, I will not cry, _she swore, furiously blinking back tears.

"Nothing can be done." The Goblin King closed his eyes. "I have failed. The Labyrinth will die."

"No!" she cried. "I don't believe that. This can't be the end."

"Ah, Sarah." Jareth sighed, and his breath faded away to the barest murmur. "This isn't one of your fairytales. There is no happy ending."

"I don't believe in fairytales anymore." she said, both sad and angry at the same time. "I only believe in the fate we make for ourselves."

At this, the Goblin King gave a dry cough that might have been a laugh.

"How you've changed, my Sarah..."

Sarah held her breath. "What did you call me?"

But he was gone again, dreaming with his eyes open. She could feel the heat radiating off his slender body, and now his hair clung damply to his forehead. _Water,_ she thought. _He needs water. _She grabbed the copper kettle and opened the cottage door, letting in a howling swirl of wind in. Rain poured off the eaves, sluicing over the moss like a silver stream, and it was this she collected. In the clearing, the pool roiled as the storm swept across it, like a boiling cauldron, and even the largest silverwoods swayed and shuddered in the wind.

She brought a cup of water and held it to his lips, but he turned away.

"Drink." she insisted. "You're burning up."

Obediently, he drank, water slipping past the sides of his mouth and trickling down his neck. It tasted of spring. How easily she commanded him now, thought the Goblin King. Just as easily as her name rolled off his tongue without him meaning to speak it at all. He had gone so long without saying her name even in his mind that it was as if a dam inside him had burst. A sorceress like no other... The dark veil of her hair brushed his shoulder as she leaned over him, her lips forming words he couldn't quite hear.

"I won't let you die."

Sarah turned from the bed and dug in her pack until she found Sir Didymus' mirror. Holding it up to the firelight, she gripped it with both hands and willed it to work with all her might.

"Hoggle," she called, "I need you!"

* * *

The dwarf sat at the head of a long table in the dining hall. The plate before him was untouched, and he quietly shredded the crust of his bread and scattered it on the table. Sir Didymus sat with him in gloomy silence, listening to the rain fall.

"I don't know what I'll say to Sarah." Hoggle said, pushing his plate away. "It will break her heart."

His eyes dull and fur matted, Sir Didymus at first appeared not to hear him. Then the little knight stirred and sighed. "There was no nobler beast in all the land."

The dwarf eyed his friend worriedly. Didymus had said little since Ludo's death, and he could see the little knight sinking deeper into dejection. Hoggle tried to think of something more to say when a summons like a silver bell cut through the rumble of thunder. His grizzled eyebrows lifted in surprise.

"Sarah!"

The little man fumbled at the pouch at his belt and pulled out the mirror. Sarah's face peered out anxiously, and Hoggle was shocked at how exhausted she looked. When she spoke, she sounded far away.

"Hoggle, Sir Didymus. I need your help."

Sir Didymus was at his side in a moment, jostling for a view. "Anything, my lady!"

"I've found him." Sarah took a deep breath. "But we can't come back. Something's wrong with him, Hoggle. I don't know if he's going to make it."

Hoggle sucked in his breath. _The King and the kingdom are one,_ Didymus had reminded him. _They are bonded. One cannot survive without the other. _

"He has to. Things are... not going well here, Sarah."_ If Jareth dies, we all die._ He couldn't bring himself to mention Ludo just yet. "The storm's trapped us inside the castle, I'm not sure we can help you."

"You still can," said Sarah quickly. "I need you to tell me how to bring down a fever."

"A fever?" Hoggle was puzzled. "Jareth has never been ill. I didn't think it was possible..."

"All things are possible in these dark times." said Sir Didymus. "My lady, can he speak?"

Sarah looked behind her anxiously. "A little. But he doesn't seem to be awake all of the time."

"Water." said Hoggle. "Get him to drink as much as he can, and keep him as cool as you can. There's some willow bark in the saddlebags for tea, you can try that. I'm not sure if anything else can be done."

Sarah's face was fading quickly. "Thank you, Hoggle. I'll come back to you as soon as I can, I promise..."

The mirror surface cleared, and the dwarf slumped in his chair, defeated. "That's it, Didymus. It's over."

"Not yet." Sir Didymus bristled with determination. "There is still hope."

"Hope for what? Jareth is dying, and you know what that means. It's only a matter of time."

"She still has time." insisted Didymus. "Did you see my lady's eyes? She cares for him."

"Cares for who?" Hoggle asked perplexedly. He scratched his head. "You can't be serious!"

"Verily, my friend, I have never been more serious in my life. "

Hoggle shook his head doubtfully. "I don't see what difference that makes."

"All the difference in the world." A bright gleam returned to the little knight's eyes. "She will save him, and save us all. It is just as I've said, my lady is a powerful enchantress."

"Not that again!" exclaimed Hoggle. "You heard what she said the first time, she's got no magical powers. That was so embarrassing..."

"On the contrary, your Acting-Majesty," said Sir Didymus primly, "She had the power to return to us in our hour of need, did she not? Perhaps my lady does not have the magic like His Majesty does, but I'll warrant she has a power all her own. She will discover what she needs to do, and it will come to her very soon."

Hoggle groaned. "You're doing it again. Speaking complete nonsense and never explaining a single thing."

But Sir Didymus was already scurrying from the room. Without stopping, he called back over his shoulder at the dwarf.

"Mark my words, friend Hoggle. Our fair maiden will not give up on him. And we should not give up on her."

* * *

She boiled water for the willow bark tea, glancing over to the bed in the corner every few minutes. The Goblin King had sunken into a restless sleep, and from time to time, he muttered things Sarah didn't understand. After his fierce insistence that she not touch him, she'd rummaged through the wardrobe for a pair of his gloves. They fit her like a second skin, and when she'd touched him again, the leather was so thin she could feel the rapid flutter of his pulse through it. Jareth shivered, but had not protested further.

In fact, he didn't seem aware of her presence at all. As Sarh watched, his fitful tossing grew more agitated, he lashed out and struck the wall. Another blow from his clenched fist splintered one of the bed posts. Finally, she grappled with him, trying in vain to restrain his frenzied thrashing, but it could not be done. The Goblin King's strength was supernatural as he twisted soundlessly out of her grasp again and again. Sarah was forced to use all her weight to pin him, sprawled out full length over his torso until their faces were mere inches apart. She could feel him through the thin silk of her shirt, and it was like standing too close to the fire.

"Stop it!" she cried desperately, "Don't fight me, Jareth."

At the sound of his name, he calmed. His eyes flew open, still unseeing.

"I will claim what is mine," he said in a guttural rasp, "You will not have her."

Sarah relaxed her grip in confusion. "What are you talking about?"

The Goblin King's eyes snapped shut, his entire body going limp. Shaken and relieved, Sarah eased herself off him. A sore spot on her ribs and another on her jaw where his flailing fist had struck her ached, and she knew she'd have more bruises to show for her pains. Limping to the hearth, she fetched a cup of the tea, still warm.

"Drink it," she told the unresisting Goblin King, "It will help with the fever."

He drank as obediently as before, strangely subdued and not even flinching from its bitter taste. One cup, then two were swallowed without complaint. Sarah allowed herself a wry smile. _I told him he wouldn't have the strength to resist. _ She pulled the chair closer to the side of the bed. Now all she could do was watch... and wait.

Without knowing it, Sarah dozed. Her head fell forward until it rested on the Goblin King's pillow, and her hand crept out, fingers circling his upper arm in a gentle clasp. She slept, unmindful of the rain and the wind.

* * *

Holed up in the kitchen, Hoggle sat miserably near the fire trying to ignore the wind's keening lament through the chinks in the walls. The kitchen was the warmest place in the castle, but he feared that if the flood waters continued to rise it would become too wet to light the great fires.

"Curse this rain," he muttered bleakly. "First we're roasted alive, then we're drowned. You there!"

A nearby goblin squeaked in fright, but stopped at his call.

"Where is Sir Didymus? I haven't seen him for over an hour."

"I don't know, Acting-Majesty. He said something about inspecting the damage and left."

"Went outside?" Hoggle said incredulously. "He must be crazy! Who went with him?"

"No one." shrugged the goblin. "He went alone."

"Alone."

The dwarf did not like the sound of that. Ever since Sarah's summons, the little knight had been relentlessly optimistic, but refused to explain why. But to venture out in this storm... Hoggle shook his head. _Didymus must be out of his furry little noggin. Damn me if I'm going to chase after him in this weather... _There was only one small slit window in the kitchen for light, and Hoggle peered out into the storm.

_Please, let him be all right._

Sir Didymus crept around the edge of the castle, his hat pulled low over his eyes. The rain was coming down in sheets so that he could hardly see, and the litte knight walked as close to the wall as he could so as not to get lost and wander off into the grounds. It was, perhaps, unchivalrous of him to leave without obtaining his Acting-Majesty's consent, but Didymus felt sure his friend would understand. With the occasional flash of lightning, he thought he could see it just ahead... there. The ruins of the King's tower.

He lifted his nose to the air and sniffed carefully. Although it was known that Sir Didymus' sense of smell was not as keen as he fondly believed, there was one thing he could detect unerringly: the scent of magic. It was there, he thought he could smell it even in the downpour. It had just been a hunch, of course, he couldn't be certain it had been left behind. On the morning of the tower's collapse, the odor of magic had hung too heavily around the rubble to make sense of of anything. But now...

The little knight picked cautiously over the rubble, following his nose. Everything that remained was sodden, and bits of parchment floated away as the rain washed over the stones. Didymus shook the rain from his fur and kept looking. He had to find it before it, too, washed away. At last he saw it, a glint of metal that threw back the lightning's spark. The little knight scrabbled at the rock until he could pull it free, a curious triangular gold and silver pendant with points that curved downward, hung on a leather thong.

Sir Didymus wrapped it carefully in a bit of cloth and tucked it into his belt for safekeeping. His Majesty would return, and all would be well. Satisfied that his duty had been done, Didymus began the tedious journey back to the safety of the castle, rain streaming from the brim of his hat. The cobblestones were slippery, and once or twice he lost his balance, but he could see the light from the kitchens in the distance. Sir Didymus quickened his step. There would be warmth, food, and maybe even a wee tot of rhum...

Then the little knight heard an ominous creaking that cut through the storm. Somewhere above him, a piece of roofing gave way and came crashing down, sending a wave of water that swept Sir Didymus off his feet. It carried him for quite a distance until he fetched up against an old, crumbling wall. He clawed at it only to have the stones give way without warning, sending him hurtling down a narrow tunnel that opened up suddenly into a deep, dark hole.

* * *

"Well... If it isn't you."

The words woke Sarah out of her slumber, and she sat up with a start. At first, she did not remember where she was, but the Goblin King stirred on the bed next to her. Her neck ached, and the wind still battered the little cottage. She did not know how she had slept through it all, and if anything, the storm had grown worse.

"It seems you are full of surprises, Sarah." Jareth said with grim amusement, although he was too weak to move. "You are always doing things I do not expect."

"You're awake." she said gladly, "I thought I'd lost you."

A strange expression crossed Jareth's face, but vanished so quickly it could've been a trick of the light. "Would that grieve you?"

"I--" Sarah wasn't sure what to say, so she told the truth. "Yes."

The silence stretched on uncomfortably until Sarah got up and laid another blanket on the bed just to have something to do with her hands. She looked out the window, lingering as long as possible. Pitch black with the rain driving against the glass, Sarah could see nothing. But she could hear the roaring of the storm through the forest, and the groaning of the silverwoods in the wind. The cottage stood firm and the fire cast its golden light across the floor, but they two were all alone in a howling abyss. Sarah leaned her forehead against the cold glass.

"It's like the end of the world."

"It is," said Jareth from the bed. "And it won't be long, Sarah. Are you certain you won't return to your own world? You cannot save this one."

Sarah turned quickly back to the room. "What does it matter? I am here, and I will stay. There is no power that can send me back now."

With those words, she felt a stab of regret. She would never see her father again, never see Toby. Karen would never fuss or hover anxiously over her. The last thought brought a sad smile to her lips. She just wished she knew how it would happen. Would they wake up Christmas morning to find her gone? Or would any trace of her vanish from their lives and memories like a wisp of smoke? It made her ache inside, thinking of the family she loved but who would not know to love her...

When Sarah wandered back from her grim reflections she found Jareth's gaze fixed upon her once more. He betrayed no emotion, but his regard was of such intensity that she found herself wanting to look away.

"That may not be entirely true," he said carefully. "You might still go home."

Wild hope flared up inside her, but she restrained it with caution. "At what price?"

"Still so suspicious," he admonished her, "After all this time. I could hardly harm you now, Sarah."

He gestured vaguely and Sarah saw it was true. Although the fever had broken, he was still drained of energy, with not even the strength to sit up.

"Maybe not." Sarah conceded. "But why would you do it? Why now?"

Jareth shrugged. "There is not much time left."

Sarah couldn't explain the disappointment she suddenly felt. She sat back down in her chair slowly, one leg tucked beneath her.

"You must have been dreaming earlier," she said at last, "You were talking in your sleep."

"Did I?" said Jareth casually, "I don't remember."

A great weariness came over him, and Jareth fought to stay awake. Sarah was playing at something again. He would have to be very wary, indeed.

"People say a lot of strange things when they're dreaming." Sarah thought of the drawing, tucked into a deep corner of the wardrobe, but she didn't dare confront him with it, not yet.

"Do you still dream, Sarah?"

The question caught her off guard, and she blushed without knowing why.

"Of course I do. I dreamed of the Labyrinth."

"And what did you see?"

Sarah did not want to answer. "It had... changed."

Jareth let out a slow, painful breath. "You saw the Labyrinth in ruins. My dreams are the same."

"Is that what will come?" asked Sarah.

Jareth flicked his eyes to the window. "It is already here."

"And do you still blame me for what's happened?" Sarah looked away, afraid to hear the answer.

"That silverwood outside." he nodded toward the door. "It has grown there since the dawn of time, and the storm has torn it out by the roots. Is it to blame for what's happened?"

His reply cut her to the quick. "You see me as a force of destruction." she said numbly.

The Goblin King laughed a little. His gaze seemed to devour her. "Yes, I do. I have known it would be so, since before you were born."

Sarah could not reply, the idea had stolen away her very breath.

"Our destiny is written for us in the wind and the water." said the Goblin King, his pale eyes locked with her own. "We may seek to alter its course, we might run from the truth... but in the end, it finds us. We can no more escape it than our own shadows."

"I don't believe that." _Is that why you left this place? _Sarah wondered silently._ Did you abandon your home to try and escape your destiny? _"If you know what your destiny is, you can change it."_  
_

"Our fates do not care what we do or not do believe, it simply _is_." Jareth laughed again, a little weaker this time. "You should guard your feelings more carefully, Sarah. Your face reveals your every thought. You want to know what fate I saw for myself and tried to escape, do you not?"

The Goblin King brushed his hand across his face, and Sarah saw that it shook, even though his voice remained steady.

"You were the fate I sought to escape." he said. "It was your face I saw, your presence here foretelling the doom of my world. I, too, thought that by knowing it, I could change the future. And yet you see how futile that was, for here we are."

Sarah grew pale. It could not be. And yet, five years the Labyrinth had been falling to ruin, a slow death that began ever since she first set foot in it. Hoggle and Sir Didymus had been right to believe her responsible, but they had been too generous in assigning fault. If Jareth was right, _she _was the Labyrinth's curse. _No,_ she thought, _I'll never believe that. Never._

Sarah gripped the arms of the chair so tightly she thought they would crack. "That's not possible."

"Look around you, Sarah." Jareth said with a hint of tired reproach. "Do not tell me what is and is not possible. Once, I blamed you, but it is I who am at fault. With every action, I thought I was evading my destiny, but I was deceived. I will pay the price for my folly. We all will, and very soon."

His gaze upon her was weary, like a man long denied food and water. "Many will die, Sarah. For you."

Sarah pushed back her chair so suddenly, it toppled over. "Enough! No more..." she cried, tears burning in her throat.

"No," he agreed quietly. "No more. Forget this place, Sarah. We are beyond saving now. I have just enough left in me to do one more thing. Let me send you back."

Sarah was quiet for a while. "Will it stop the Labyrinth from dying?"

"No."

"Then why do it? Why save me?"

"You are not of this world." whispered the Goblin King. "There is no need for you to meet its dark end."

"I don't believe you. No more lies." she said stubbornly. "No more evasions. You will tell me the truth."

At her words, Jareth gave an involuntary shudder. Those eyes of hers, darkly dreaming... that voice. It could command him now, if she only knew what she possessed. She could unlock places he'd long kept from the light if he allowed it.

But he would not.

"The time grows too short for games, Sarah. Will you go?"

Sarah took a step forward and something struck her foot. It was Sir Didymus' mirror, lying forgotten on the floor beneath the bed. Sarah picked it up and it was hot to the touch. From far away, she heard a wavering call.

"My lady..."

"Sir Didymus?"

Jareth's question forgotten, she held the mirror up to the light and could just make out the little knight's form, surrounded by darkness. He was in a deep hole, clinging to the walls as the water rose swiftly around him. Far above him was the entrance, covered in debris from the flood with just enough gaps to let the rain in. Sir Didymus hung on doggedly, but he grew tired and the water did not stop.

"He's in an oubliette." Jareth's voice brought her back. "There is no escape from that one."

"He'll drown." said Sarah with dread. "He can't get out, and he can't hold on forever. The rain will fill that hole if they don't find him in time."

"I would have wished for a more merciful ending for him." Jareth sounded weary again, he passed a gloved hand over his eyes.

Sarah could no longer watch, she dropped the mirror facedown and threw herself on the floor beside the bed. Blindly, her hand sought Jareth's and squeezed hard.

"You have to make it stop. Please!"

The Goblin King gazed at her hand in his with regret. "I don't think I can."

"Can't you try?" she begged him, "You said you had some power left, enough to send me home. What if you use it to stop the storm? Please... He'll die if you don't do something."

Jareth closed his eyes in pain. _Even now, I can refuse you nothing._ "If that is your wish."

If it had been anywhere but the Silverwood, he might not have been able to do it. But in this place, steeped in ancient magic and the every beginnings of the world... it could be done. Jareth breathed deeply and pushed away so that all sensations fell away except the pressure of Sarah's hand in his own. There was no fear, no pain, nothing but the beat of his heart as he sent out tendrils of power in all directions, sending them arching through the storm and over the forest. Each filament was delicate as a spider's web but stronger than steel, and Jareth flung them out as far as he could reach.

And then... he _pulled_.

It was like trying to move a bank of fog as it slipped through your fingers, and Jareth had to move slowly... so slowly, lest it all break away from him. Knife-edged agony pierced his skull, and he set his jaw agains the pain. The power was his to shape with only the strength of his will to aid him. The Goblin King hoped it would be enough.

Sarah watched him intently, his grip on her hand so tight she could no longer feel her fingers. She saw nothing, but she could feel it... power like a gathering storm, where the air grows thick and electric with sorcery. The flames of the hearth dwindled to their lowest, tiny flames barely leaping off the kindling, and the room grew dark with shadows. Jareth lay still, but every muscle in his body was tensed as if to spring. Sarah listened... The rain had slowed, the wind had hushed to a sigh and the thunder rolled further in the distance. With every second that passed, the storm diminished...

The pain was exquisite now, and behind his closed eyelids, the world turned from black to a light of dazzling brilliance. It dizzied him and he fought for control of the storm as it seethed within the confines of his will. He was almost there... just a little further... The torment that threatened to split his head in two blossomed into a starburst of blinding light. It was not enough.

_It isn't enough. _The words sunk into Sarah's realization with cold horror. She could feel whatever crackled in the air around her weakening, ebbing away like the tide. They had failed. Jareth had done it all for nothing, and Sir Didymus would die.

"No!" she cried aloud, the anguish of her voice breaking the silence of the room. Something inside her shattered like delicate crystal, the shards hurtling outwards until Sarah thought she would be torn to pieces by it. The feeling passed as quickly as it came, leaving her feeling drained and cold.

A fresh wave of suffering broke over the Goblin King, but with it came a rush of energy, so strong that he could feel it to his very fingertips. It was enough. With it, he could rule the storm and shadow, he could hold it like a vise in his mind until it slackened and grew weak, he could scatter its might far and wide until it was nothing... After what seemed like an eternity, Jareth opened his eyes.

"It is done."

Sarah sagged on the bed, her heat beating wildly and her limbs suddenly turned to water. The Goblin King looked no better. All blood had gone from his face, like a stone mask with only his pale eyes looking out of it from deep within like candles burning low in their sconces.

"You have what you want." His voice was rough, slurred with exhaustion.

"Thank you." said Sarah, releasing his hand at last. She rubbed her hands up and down her arms, trying to restore warmth. "I'm sorry..."

"Leave me."

She shook her head, not understanding. "But..."

"Your knight has been saved. He will live another day, to see the world's end. I have done as you wished. Leave now." The Goblin King looked upon her with all the coldness he could summon, though it cost him dear.

"What will happen to you?"

"That's none of your concern... any more." Jareth sounded even less intelligible, his consciousness slipping quickly away.

_I can't go back without him, _thought Sarah miserably. _It can't have been all for nothing, it just can't._

The tears would not be dammed now, they ran silently down her cheeks. Jareth's hand hung off the side of the bed looking oddly defenseless, and she reached to move back onto the covers. Something on the inside of his pale wrist caught her attention.

A rust-colored trickle, dark and coppery against his ashen skin.

Sarah risked a glance at the prostrate Goblin King. With a light touch, she peeled off the glove from his right hand, careful to only touch him with her own gloved fingertips. Slender fingers curled protectively in a loose fist, and she straightened them out to reveal a deep gash that ran from the base of his thumb the opposite edge of his palm. Flakes of dried blood came away with the leather, as if it had pooled there in the glove for a time. She looked at it for a long moment, then tucked his hand back under the covers.

Sarah dug through her saddlebags in the corner, keeping on ear out for any rustle of movement. She finally found what she was looking for, wrapped in a strip of leather and shoved all the way to the bottom. She gave a measuring glance at the unconscious Goblin King.

"Answers," Sarah said softly, balancing the small dagger in her palm.

* * *

_**Author's Notes: **Chapter title comes from a David Bowie song off his excellent **Heathen** album, used for its similarity to a line from **Labyrinth.** (Probably just a coincidence, eh? Too bad...) Both the wonderfully bittersweet song and album as a whole are highly recommended. __  
_

_**Solea** mentioned my choice of pen name, and I thought it worthwhile to include a short note of explanation. I had no idea it was a movie, much less a badly written one! It was taken from French for "dance of death", a common theme in medieval art (particularly around the time of the bubonic plague) where death is symbolized by a skeleton, usually leading a procession to the grave. In the allegorical sense, it represents the power of death over the living, whether they be rich or poor, young or old, etc. Rather grim, but it suits me._

_Comments/reviews welcome._


	15. Chapter 15: The Mirror of Dark Dreaming

**_Author's Notes: _**_Thank you to everyone who left a comment, both familiar faces and new! It was good to get some (amazingly eloquent) insight into what people liked, and I hope it will help me improve the writing. I won't mention everyone by name, but I read and think about each comment and often reread them to remind myself of what the focus should be... Something that is still relatively faithful to the movie, but perhaps a slightly deeper exploration of both setting and characters. Thanks for all your help.  
_

_This chapter is a (relatively) short one, but I like it a great deal_. _ As you'll see, we get to revisit chapter four, **The Queen of the Dead**, which is one of my favorites. For that alone, I'm a happy writer-- and a lazy one, since I get to do some cutting and pasting. Hopefully, it is all to good effect, and readers may be happy to see that Sarah finally learns the truth. Well, perhaps not the whole truth, but a truth, shall we say..._

_Yeah, I wasn't going to post this until Sunday, but it's ready... why wait any longer? Much appreciation to **whiteraven** for her reminder about updating and for giving me a much-needed lift today. I'm jaded about a lot of things, but it still makes me happy that people are interested in seeing what comes next. By the by, I now have a **livejournal under username dmacabre**, the link is on my profile page. Updates, general progress reports and whingeing will be posted there.**  
**_

_Warning to **Heist**: There is more suffering and pain. But just a teensy bit.  
_

**

* * *

**

**Chapter Fifteen: The Mirror of Dark Dreaming**

It was calm, with not a whisper of wind to stir the sodden leaves that lay underfoot. Twigs and branches littered the ground and the roots of a fallen silverwood were exposed, gnarled claws in the fading dusk. High above in the window of sky, a drift of violet clouds veiled the face of the moon. The storm had gone, leaving behind it only silence.

Sarah made her way around the debris of the storm to the pool that lay beyond, shimmering like a black diamond in the cool twilight air. On her knees, she looked down at the moon's reflection in the water, peeling off her gloves one by one. Holding the dagger awkwardly in her right hand, Sarah hesitated, chewing her lip. It would hurt. But she needed answers, and there was no one else to give them to her now.

_Please let this work, _she asked silently.

She drew the knife down across her palm, and a scarlet thread followed its keen point, trickling down her wrist. Sarah was horrified at how much blood there was, but she didn't wait, plunging her hand beneath the waters. The cold sting of the water bit her palm, then numbed it. The face of the moon turned a coppery red.

At first, there was nothing. _Wait,_ Sarah reminded herself, _Just wait... _

And then something in the water began to move.

* * *

Hoggle had fallen asleep at the kitchen table, and what finally woke him was not the storm or thunder, it was the silence. He lifted his head, cocking on ear this way and that, and still he could hear nothing. It was late and the castle was wrapped in heavy slumber, but he roused the goblins with a shout anyway. It was one of those...whatchamacallits that Jareth was fond of throwing about. _A Royal prerogative!_

"Wake up, you lazy runts!" he bellowed happily._ Yeesh, I'm beginning to sound like him, too.  
_

Running to the parapet overlooking the Labyrinth, Hoggle rejoiced to see the clear night sky. The storm had passed! A cool breeze lifted the collar of his shirt, and below him, he could see that most of the Labyrinth now lay under several feet of water, the newly formed canals shimmering back at him in the light of the full moon. Ah, well. Repairs would be needed, of course. The blasted vine hadn't drowned, and more's the pity, but they would tackle that problem, too. First thing in the morning, as soon as Didymus could marshal the troops...

"Where _is_ Sir Didymus?" he asked the first sleepy goblin who answered his call.

But the little knight had not been seen for ages, not by any of the goblins he stopped and questioned. Hoggle shuffled his feet guiltily. He'd been so sure Didymus was off on some other fool's errand, soon to return. But he should've been back hours ago, and he never would've left for so long without telling anyone. The dwarf looked out over the Labyrinth, but could see no movement except the lapping of the water. Didymus was out there somewhere, and the kingdom needed him. Hoggle was no fool, he knew that acting king or not, it was Didymus who made sure everything ran smoothly. Without the little knight to oversee things, Hoggle felt very much at loose ends. He made up his mind.

"Get lanterns." he said to the goblin. "Form a search party. We're going to find him, wherever he is."

Hoggle paused. What would Jareth say at a time like this? Something to motivate his subjects... Ah.

"Snap to it, or I'll crush the lot of you like insects!"

* * *

_A man dressed all in black spurred his horse along a desolate road. The landscape was a bleak with not a single tree in sight, only angular rock formations wrapped in mist, their craggy pinnacles splintering the sky. His hood pulled well over his face, he bent low over the neck of his mount, whispering softly as if to speed its steps. It galloped steadily on, the rider's cloak whipping past the tendrils of fog that sought to ensnare them both. It was difficult to tell how far they had come, for there was no sun to judge the hour of day, nor stars to guide them. Only a sickly yellow light filtered in through the haze, but after a time, they came to a wide river. The current was black as ink, swirling soundlessly past the bank and running swift and deep until it tumbled out of sight._

_The rider dismounted, his voice rang out across the waters. "Boatman! Come and earn your keep."_

The images swirled through the water, and Sarah could hear everything as clearly as if it were happening right before her: the thunder of horse's hooves on the dusty road, and a voice she knew all too well. She felt suddenly light-headed and had to dig her fingers into the turf to keep balance. How long had it been since she'd eaten? She could not remember. In the darkness beneath the trees, pale green glowing lights hovered, disappearing one moment only to reappear a short distance away. _Will-o'-the-wisps, _she thought. _To light the way... _She swayed a little, then steadied._ I've lost too much blood. It's making me see strange things...  
_

"Where now the horse and rider?" Sarah whispered to herself. "They have passed like rain on the mountain, like a wind in the meadow... The days have gone down in the West behind the hills into shadow..."

_The hall was lined with ancient timbers, and along both walls were rows of the shadow-dead..._

_"Then you know I have not come for myself, but to claim what is mine."_

_"...for of all kingdoms, mine is the greatest."_

Sarah could not breathe. She saw him, the man with the iron crown, his face no longer in shadow. Raven-black hair framed a face like purest marble, hollow cheeks and eyes that were empty holes like the sockets of a skull. This was the man who beckoned to her in her vision, the one who called her his queen. She would not rule over the living, but the restless dead. Sarah flinched from the man's rattling laughter, but forced herself to look again.

_"You fight for nought, Goblin King."_

The ringing of steel upon steel, the drawing of first blood...

...and a fist like cold iron crushing the life from her throat until her vision swam red and black...

_"All men yield to me in the end..."_

Sarah fought to get free now, shoving back at the pictures in the water with all her will until it released her. The night air was like cool rain, and she drank it down eagerly. The ground beneath her tilted crazily and Sarah collapsed on the grass, bloodied hand still trailing in the water. The last words she heard were Jareth's, rough with pain and longing...

_"My beloved enemy..."_

* * *

"Didymus!" Hoggle yelled, rubbing his hands together to keep warm. "Curse it, where are you?"

It was growing cold. Hoggle could see the wintery puffs of his exhaled breath, and already frost was forming on the remnants of the thorn-vine everywhere. It had survived the flood, and Hoggle suspected that it would survive the ice, too. It might be the only thing to do so, however.

The goblin search party returned, with no news. Hoggle began to worry in earnest. If Didymus had set off after Sarah and the Goblin King, there's no telling how far he would've gotten. In weather like this, he could freeze to death.

"Keep looking." he ordered the goblins tersely. "We won't stop until we find something."

Hoggle lifted his own lantern higher and resolved to search the ruins of the king's tower again. The little knight had been drawn to it, even though he never spoke of it aloud. Hoggle had seen him gazing at it from the weather tower and and caught the odd little twitch of Didymus' nose when rebuilding it was mentioned. He could be there, even as the night's chill settled in.

Grumbling to himself, Hoggle made his way alone away from the others, more than a little apprehensive about visiting the ruins after dark. Even with Jareth gone, an air of menace and magic hung about it. When it loomed before him, he regretted not ordering at least a goblin or two to accompany him. Preferably to lead the way.

"Didymus?" Hoggle cast the lantern light this way and that. "Are you there?"

Shadows thrown from the lantern leapt and danced across the castle walls, and the wind moaned through the stones. Behind him, a slither of gravel. Hoggle whirled and nearly dropped the light, but there was no one there.

"Didymus?" he asked fearfully.

And then something heavy landed on his back, knocking him to the ground.

* * *

When Sarah came to, she was lying on her side by the edge of the pool. The scent of grass and clover tickled her nose, and she groaned, rolling onto her back. Her left hand was nearly numb with cold and she curled in on herself. Around her, pale green lights winked in and out, floating just above her as she lay on the grass. Sarah paid them no attention. Her head ached as if she hadn't slept in days. She dug the heels of her hands into her temples. _What happened?_

With a painful rush, it all came back and the memory jerked her upright. All the will-o'-the-wisps scattered, the dozens of tiny lights snuffing themselves out like candles. A chill wind blew back her hair, and Sarah blinked, realizing that frost lay on her eyelashes and on the damp folds of her shirt.

"I _did_ die." she aloud in wonderment, "You did come to save me."

Sarah could not think about what this meant, not yet. She got up and ran back toward the cottage. Slipping and stumbling over branches and wet leaves, she fell to her knees just beside the crooked little tree, then hauled herself up by its branches. Her hand brushed against something soft, and Sarah paused to look closer. The storm had not blighted the tree's leaves, it looked untouched. And on one slender branch was a delicate flower bud, rose-pink and ivory in the moonlight. Already it gave off a fragrance like summer, strong enough for an entire orchard of trees...

Sarah pulled back her hand as if she'd been burned. There was no time. She turned and ran to the cottage door, but the door would not open. Sarah rattled the handle and pounded on it to no avail. There was no keyhole and no key, it was not possible to bolt the door and yet, it would not budge. Sarah beat her fist against it in frustration.

There was only one way the door would be shut fast against her. Someone inside had commanded it.

"No," she pleaded, resting her forehead against the unyielding wood. "Don't do this."

Sarah was locked out.

* * *

"Ambrosius!" Hoggle cried in relief as he rolled around on the ground. "Damn you, you dratted mutt. Didn't Didymus teach you any manners?"

Ambrosius placed two paws on Hoggle's stomach and wuffled happily, pressing his cold nose against the dwarf's neck.

"Auughh!"

Hoggle flailed his arms and legs until he succeeded in shooing the hairy dog off, and then levered himself to his feet. By some miracle, the lantern had not broken or gone out when he'd dropped it, and he retrieved it quickly.

"So he's gone and left you too, has he?" he said to himself as Ambrosius frolicked around him. "That means he can't have gone far."

Hoggle buried one hand in the dog's furry shoulder to warm his numb fingers. It had gotten even colder as he'd searched, and now he was covered in muddy pawprints. He had a feeling this had never been one of Jareth's problems as king, either.

"Come on, boy." he said to Ambrosius. "He's not here."

At this, Ambrosius barked and wagged his tail, then barked again, backing away from the dwarf's grasp.

"Don't play games now, you dumb beast." scolded Hoggle. "I'm freezing out here."

But Ambrosius ambled off as if he were on a Sunday afternoon walk. Hoggle cursed and scrambled to follow him, catching hold of his collar. Ambrosius would not be budged, and cheerfully dragged the little man on a roundabout excursion, sniffing stones and nosing at the debris of the tower before setting off to examine a nearby wall, completely absorbed in his explorations.

"Ambrosius, I hardly think this is the time..." Hoggle threw up his hands in exasperation. "Fine! If you won't come back with me, then you can stay out here all night, see if I care..."

He stomped off in the direction of the castle, carefully picking his way over a mound of branches and ignoring the dog's warning whine. The waters had washed up a great deal of trash that collected here and there, strands of dead thorn-vine, broken pots and pans and the splintered remains of goblin huts. He muttered to himself as he threaded through all the obstacles.

When a set of icy claws grasped Hoggle's ankle, he screamed for all he was worth.

* * *

It was dark, and he was so cold. The fire was nearly out, and he couldn't find the words to re-kindle it in the hearth. Jareth turned, rolling the blankets around him in a thick cocoon, but it did not help. He'd gone too far, spent too much of his energy, and there was none left to warm him. There was barely enough left to keep him alive, and the sluggish beat of his heart told him that it would soon slow and fall silent.

Dimly, he wondered where Sarah had gone. Back to the castle? He hoped she would try wishing herself back Aboveground. It might work, even now that the Labyrinth was falling. It no longer heard his pleas, but for Sarah it might be different. It might grant her one last wish...

He stirred, remembering the heat of her hands even through the leather gloves she'd donned. Every single touch had left its mark, and if he concentrated he could feel them still. They were all he had left of her.

It was so dark now that Jareth did not know if his eyes were open or closed. As if from very far away, he heard her, calling his name. She sounded frightened, pleading. _It is a cold night,_ he thought groggily. _She should find shelter soon. _Even seasoned with fear, his name sounded sweet on her lips. Would that these might be the last words he heard. He turned again, restlessly. She kept calling, there was something new in her voice... ah. Jareth sighed, a cold little puff of mist vanishing like smoke before him. She knew. _I robbed the King of the Dead of his greatest prize. _The shame of her knowledge was like a splinter of ice in his heart. _Blood and water...  
_

The door shook again. She did not give up easily, his Sarah, his green-eyed witch. He regretted the pain this would cause her, but he could not let her in. Her cries would fall quiet soon, the door would remain shut.

Jareth was alone again, as he knew he always would be at the world's end.

* * *

_**Author's Note: **I am terribly fond of the somewhat pretentious habit of sprinkling my writing with various (mostly literary, some mythlogical, etc.) references. I won't mention all of them, let it be just my private joke to other English majors, geeks and bookworms. But to give credit where credit is due, Sarah's speech about the horse and rider will be recognized by astute readers as belonging to the greatest work of fantasy ever written, J.R.R. Tolkien's The Lord of the Rings, (Fellowship of the Ring) in the chapter titled "The King of the Golden Hall"._

_**Busoshwe**, you're not on crack to pick up on the similarities, although it's not really that direct. (As in, I didn't have the Halls of Mandos particularly in mind when I wrote about the hall of the King of the Dead.) But Tolkien-- and to a lesser extent, Brooks-- have no doubt influenced my writing, as have many fantasy authors. I try to read a lot in that genre and I'm sure it shapes my way of thinking and looking at writing more than even I realize. Oh, also, I like Bowie's Reality album a great deal, too. (My favorites on that one are probably "Never Get Old", "Days" and "Bring me the Disco King".) I seem to end up listening to Heathen a little more, though. _

_**Devilbunny** asked if Jareth could've simply used the remaining power he had to save himself instead of Sir Didymus, thereby solving everything. The shower answer is "no". The long answer is that what ails Jareth goes far beyond his ability to fix it, because it's wholly bound up with what's happening to the Labyrinth as a whole. Trying to solve that problem by trying to heal himself would be like trying to empty the ocean with a teacup. In comparison, Sir Didymus' admittedly regrettable situation was easier to fix!_

_ Also, kudos to **Heist**, **bobmcbobbob1 **and** Indygodusk **__for their sharp eyes and knowledge of Jane Austen, that was indeed a Pride and Prejudice reference. It's one of my all-time favorite books, an incredible story of romance and wit. The film version with Colin Firth and Jennifer Ehle is not to be missed._

_But is it a portent of a happier ending to come? Hmmm..._


	16. Chapter 16: The Witch of Winter

**_Author's Notes: _**_Here we go, a chapter that's short and sweet. I do love writing about Sir Didymus, he's so much fun. Oh, here we're also beginning to see Sarah come into her own a little more. I think it's about time, don't you?_**_  
_**

**

* * *

**

**Chapter Sixteen: The Witch of Winter**

The cottage was dark and silent. Frost formed endless spiral patterns on the window panes, but Sarah did not feel the cold now. Her arms and shoulders ached, but she beat the door with the flat of her hand once more.

"You lied to me," she said angrily. "All this time..."

He hadn't said exactly that he didn't rescue her, Sarah realized. She'd been distracted by his cruelty, the elegant malice of his remarks. Jareth had dimissed her queries so easily, laughed it off as a childish fancy of hers. _Maybe I didn't ask the right questions._ She circled the cottage, finally picking up a stone and weighing it in her hand before hurling it at the front window. It bounced harmlessly off the glass without leaving so much as a mark. The cottage remained as dark as before and the opaque windows gave it a closed, shuttered look. Sarah thought of the Goblin King gazing at her with hooded eyes, and something inside her gave a painful wrench.

"You could've died, and I never would have known. Why didn't you tell me?"

There was no reason for him to lie. And yet, Sarah was certain he had, the events she'd seen in the water were all too real. Coupled with her own scattered memories, she knew he had sought to keep the truth from her. Sarah remembered now his forced laughter, the evasive answers and verbal sleight-of-hand. Oh, he had nearly succeeded in keeping her ignorant. But ignorant of what? Sarah's head reeled.

She'd cursed him, endangered his kingdom and everything he held dear. _How he must despise me. _The very idea made the pit of her stomach churn. But he'd risked his life for her own, sheltered her, even tried to convince her to return home to safety. It didn't make sense. Unless...

Sarah dared not complete the thought.

She wrapped her arms around herself, but it didn't ward off the invasive cold. "Why are you doing this?"

_You are not of this world. There is no need for you to meet its dark end._

_Leave me... _

The leaves rustled behind her, and Sarah turned. With the sheen of the moonlight on her night-colored coat, Rumor stood waiting. The mare lowered her head to Sarah's hand and nibbled her palm comfortingly. _I know,_ her dark eyes seemed to say. Rumor shook herself and gazed at Sarah with sad expectancy.

It was time to go.

* * *

It took only a few minutes to chop through the debris and haul out a half-frozen Sir Didymus. The little knight was soaked to the skin, the plume on his hat a bedraggled mess, his staff broken in two and his boots full of water. But far from being subdued, he spoke non-stop through chattering teeth.

"Apologies, old friend... never meant to give you a fright..."

"Yes, yes." Hoggle shushed him with embarrassment. Didymus' icy grip on his ankle had felt like some demon from the underground, ready to drag him to the center of the earth. "I was just startled, that's all."

The goblins carrying Sir Didymus snickered until Hoggle shot them a fierce glare.

"Get him inside quickly, before he freezes to death." he snapped.

"Do not fear for me..." Sir Didymus said wheezingly, waving his water-logged hat. "Never felt better..."

Hoggle watched them bundle the little knight off to the castle before bending down to inspect the oubliette. His lantern couldn't quite illuminate the bottom, but the he could hear the dripping of water fall very far down before it hit bottom. Hoggle shuddered. The ground was freezing quickly, and it was hardly warmer down in the hole. If it hadn't stopped raining and if Sir Didymus hadn't been able to claw his way up, they might never have found him at all. Hoggle wrapped his short wool cloak tighter around him. He didn't want to think about it anymore.

As he walked back to the castle, he saw that the branches of the trees were encased in ice, glittering like jewels in the light. It was a pretty sight, but a cold one. Hoggle shook his head. From blistering heat to a world buried in ice within days... it wasn't natural.

But many things had been happening lately that weren't natural.

* * *

Rumor nickered and arched her neck proudly, scenting the breeze. The mare was restless for a run, longing to lean into the wind with a rider on her back. The moon was high and the skies were clear. Sarah could ride all night and be far from the Silverwood by morning, well on the way back to the castle beyond the goblin city. All the pain and nightmares could be left behind her, swept away like cobwebs by the cold, clean air. There was nothing for her here.

_Turn back, Sarah... Before it's too late._

For just a moment she faltered, ready to saddle Rumor and be gone. Then Sarah shook her head as if she'd just awoken from a dream.

"I can't do it. I can't leave now."

But the thought still tempted her. Home. She had not dared to give it much thought since she first found herself in the Labyrinth again, afraid to acknowledge the pangs of homesickness lest they overcome her entirely. But Sarah felt them now, powerful as an undertow, dragging at her limbs until she would go down. _No._ _I can't always be running away from my problems. And I can't go home. Not yet. _Sarah buried her face in the mare's mane for a minute before giving her a gentle push. Rumor nudged her affectionately before melting away into the night. She understood.

Sarah turned to face the house again. She had to try. She called his name, laying her hand softly on the cottage wall and its tangle of ivy. It seemed to shudder beneath her touch. Or perhaps it was only the wind.

"You and I." she said quietly. "We're always at odds somehow. I beat your game, but I didn't win, did I? Nobody won."

Sarah drew back her hand. The ivy was now kissed with frost, the edges of the leaves brittle to the touch.

"Once I hated you." She looked for a sign, any sign that he still heard her. "I don't feel that way anymore. I... I don't know what you are to me. But you can't end it like this. We have things to settle. You and I."

Silence.

"You don't have to do this." she said louder. "I am not your enemy."

Silence, but the wind had begun to pick up and a chill breeze stole down the length of her arm. Sarah clenched her hands into fists. Jareth might not want to face her, but he would have to. The cut on her palm had re-opened and her fingers were slick with blood. It felt like liquid fire on her skin and looked almost black in the moonlight. She raised them before her and a curious sensation rippled through her body. And then she knew what to do.

"You will not shut me out," she said fiercely. "You won't."

Sarah slammed both hands against the door, feeling it shudder under the impact. It seemed to her that her fingers were ablaze, even though she could see nothing. The little cottage trembled, the wood creaking and groaning as if something large inside were trying to get out. She only had to command, it would obey. _ Say your right words..._

Sarah smiled grimly, ignoring the sudden wind that whipped her hair into her eyes.

"Open."

* * *

With a mug of hot rhum in one hand and the other clutching the blankets wrapped around him, Sir Didymus sat before the roaring kitchen fires, perched on his wobbly stool with all the presence of a king. His hat had been hung up near the fire to dry, and he was already regaling a group of goblins with his harrowing adventures when Hoggle caught up with them.

"...and there I was, tumbling head over tail into the dark chasm, which had opened beneath me like a gaping maw..."

The dwarf rolled his eyes, but took a seat at the back of the room and even accepted a mug of rhum, which he sipped cautiously. _Let Didymus tell his tale,_ Hoggle thought. _He's earned the right. _Hoggle was secretly relieved that no worse harm had been done. Besides being an indispensable assistant to the throne, he was the closest thing to a best friend Hoggle had ever had. Not that the dwarf would ever admit it out loud, of course.

"...icy waters closing over my head, with more rain pouring in from all sides until I..."

No doubt there was some slight exaggeration, but Didymus wasn't far off. At his size, one small flood could've carried him for the better part of a mile if he didn't drown first. Jareth's oubliettes were all over the Labyrinth, and some were worse than others. Hoggle knew this from first-hand experience.

And to be fair, it wasn't that Didymus was immodest. On the contrary, the little knight never truly bragged. He simply assumed his own actions were no more heroic than what anyone else would do in his place.

"...but never did I despair! As my strength flagged, I thought I heard my lady's voice..."

Hoggle snapped to attention. "Wait a second," he interrupted, "Sarah spoke to you? What did she say?"

"I could not say, your Acting-Majesty." Sir Didymus didn't look the slightest bit put out to have his tale interrupted, although several goblins grumbled quietly. "I thought she called my name, but perhaps in my fervent struggle I only imagined it. I had not the mirror to call her, nor could I see her face... But I would swear on my word as a knight and a gentleman that my lady was watching."

It didn't satisfy Hoggle entirely, but that was all Didymus could say. And maybe Sarah _was_ watching. That thought didn't make him feel much better. The little man sighed and pushed his cup away. He'd made a right mess of things, he had. Ludo was dead, the Labyrinth in shambles, and now... The back of Hoggle's neck prickled with cold, despite the warmth of the kitchens. He'd never been what you would call an optimist, but precious little about the recent turn of events would inspire cheer in anyone but Sir Didymus. If Sarah was watching...

_Come home, Sarah. Forget about the Goblin King. We need you here._

Sir Didymus wrapped up his tale, circumspectly avoiding any mention of Hoggle's unflattering reaction to having his ankle grabbed in the dark.

"But why were you out there in the first place?" one goblin wanted to know.

"Ah." Didymus sat back on his stool and drained his rhum in a single swallow. He tapped the side of his nose and winked.

Or was it just a blink? Hoggle never could tell with that eyepatch.

"Crown business." Sir Didymus said mysteriously, holding out his cup for a refill.

Hoggle snorted, and tried to banish his gloomy thoughts. _Crown business, indeed. That guy will say anything for a good story._

* * *

"Open!"

She did not need to say it a third time. The heat grew more intense, like holding her hands over a roaring fire, the flames licking her fingers. Her palms still flat against its surface, Sarah could feel the door rattle on its hinges, almost as if it wanted to escape her touch. But it could not. _Words do have power here,_ she thought with elation. _And in some small way, so do I. _Sarah did not doubt any longer. The cottage might serve its king, but it would not-- _could not--_ disobey her.

For a brief moment, Sarah could feel every single splinter of wood straining outward beneath her hand. Deep inside her mind, something brushed against her consciousness, a feather-light caress like a bird in flight.

_Don't defy me, Sarah..._

But not even Jareth could command her any longer. That knowledge surged through her veins like wildfire, she had never felt more alive or more powerful. The door would open, because she willed it. The Labyrinth would live, because she would not let it die.

Sarah pushed even harder. _Open to me... Let me in._ With a final groan, the door shuddered and burst into splinters and glittering ash, a dazzling bright light that hurt her eyes...

And then everything was gone and spiraling into darkness, with stars in all their cosmic glory streaking past her trailing tails of white fire.

* * *

_**A/N:** Please, nobody take the chapter title too literally. Sarah is not really a witch. I posted a lengthier discussion of the issue on 11/15/05 on my livejournal, but that's all I'll say here. Also, any replies to previous comments will be located there, too.  
_

_Comments/reviews welcome._


	17. Chapter 17: The Path of the Dead

_**Author's Notes: **I fiddled with this chapter quite a bit before arriving at this final version--what I estimate to be the fourth draft, and the hardest chapter to write so far. I revised, deleted, hacked it up into pieces and tried to stitch it back together. Brutal, but it had to be done. It felt like the story was moving too quickly. Yes, I can imagine some of your reactions. Too quickly? Hah!  
_

_You'll have to take my word for it._

**

* * *

**

**Chapter Seventeen: The Path of the Dead**

The rider was dressed all in white. White breeches that fit her like a second skin, open-necked shirt, and a snowy cloak with the hood pulled well over her face. She bent low over her mount's back as they sped along a desolate road, the bleak, treeless landscape winding away behind them. To either side, towers of jagged rock burned black against a sickly yellow sky, the crags wrapped in a choking fog that swirled past the horse and rider.

She was not aware of her surroundings at all, she only felt the dull, pounding rhythm of the horse's hooves on the road. _Doom, doom_, they seemed to drum, like the hammering of her own heart. She could think of nothing but riding as hard as she could, toward a destination and a purpose she did not yet know. After a time, they came to a wide river with waters like the very night. The current ran swift and deep past its banks with no sound until it vanished into the mist-wrapped beyond.

The rider dismounted as easily as if she'd been in and out of the saddle all her days. Her step brimmed with a confidence she did not feel, as sure and proud as a warrior's. Although she did not reach up to touch it, she knew that a plain circlet of iron with a single sapphire set in it bound her brow. The chill weight of it and its ominous presence was a constant whisper, an inaudible dark song that was an unwelcome distraction. The rider could not be turned aside now. She had a quest to fulfill.

"Boatman!" her voice rang out across the water. "Come and earn your keep!"

There was a long silence, but with little splash the ferry pulled out of the mist, manned by a stooped man in a tattered cloak. He lifted a pale face to her, hollow-cheeked and thin-lipped, with watery blue eyes set deep into his skull. The man hesitated but a moment before falling to his knees.

"My lady!"

The rider looked down upon him, fear and doubt kindling inside her like a cold fire. "I have gold to pay my passage."

And she did. Without realizing how it had gotten there, she now held a gold coin in her gloved hand, worn thin as a wafer with age, but bright as the sun.

"I can accept none from you, mistress." The boatman got shakily to his feet, his head still bowed as if he dared not meet her eyes. "Command me, and it shall be done."

Sarah lowered her hood with grim determination, black hair braided tight to the back of her head.

"You will take me across the river."

* * *

_It was a dream. He stood on the banks of the river Merandanon at night, watching its waters tumble soundlessly on and on. A procession of people cloaked all in white wound their way through the trees, walking past him as if he wasn't even there. The women wore tiny silver bells on their fingers which they rang so the sound carried clear over the water. The men held flaming torches high, and each person wore a curious painted mask. Some had horns and hooked noses, others had twisted leers and haunted eyes, each more mournful and grotesque than the last. The torchlight flickered across them, and their expressions seemed to writhe and change in the shadows._

_Last of all in the procession was a group of six, cloaked and veiled in pale gray so that Jareth could not tell if they were men or women. Between them, they bore a gold litter draped in crimson silk, upon which lay a figure whose face was covered with a cloth of purest white. The procession stopped by the water's edge before a slim boat made of reeds and the six waded out into the river, placing the litter softly upon it as if their burden would break. With gentle hands, they set it adrift, the current carrying the boat and its burden swiftly away. The six lifted their heads and keened softly to the wind, lovely, androgynous faces faintly outlined beneath their gauzy veils. The men and women followed suit, a low wail raising from each throat until it became a bleak chorus._

_"Who is it you mourn?" he asked one of the women, catching her wrist as she passed by._

_She looked at him, gaze impassive behind a mask painted a pale violet with a single midnight tear under one eye._

_"Don't you know?" she said. "The Goblin King is dead."_

_Jareth dropped her wrist, suddenly sick with fear and cold. The mourner walked on past, raising her slender arms. The chime of hundreds of silver bells sweetly pierced the night._

_Dead._

_

* * *

_

On the other side of the river was a road, and Sarah followed it past the gates of the dead city to a large timbered hall. The doors stood open, and Sarah shivered as she passed between them. She had seen such a place in her dreams... hadn't she? The hall was wide and obscured with mist, but it was no ordinary fog. As she walked past, the swirling vapors took form and Sarah could see hollow-eyed faces and reaching hands. She walked faster, and the wraiths closed in on her from behind, from all sides. Swallowing her fear, she ignored them until she came to the end of the hall. There stood a tall man in chalk-white armor, a sapphire the size of a walnut set in the pommel of his sword. His helm was that of a half-skull, covering all but the lower half of his face and the dark hair that fell over his shoulders.

"My Queen."

Sarah hesitated, frowning. She was certain she knew this man, and yet she could not remember him at all. Was it him she'd come all this way to find?

"My lord?"

"I have waited long for this moment." Smiling, the man gestured and between his fingers appeared a deep red rose. "Take your place by my side, rule with me. You will be my equal in all things, no head shall remain unbowed and no door unopened to you."

_No door unopened... _Something about that set off a tiny alarm in Sarah's mind, but she could not think over the sound of his voice. He held out the rose to her and its cool fragrance reminded her of moonlight. She would be Queen of all the world... Isn't that what she wanted?

Sarah stretched out her hand to take it when the sight of her upturned palm caught her cold. A thin red scar traced from just below her first finger to the bottom of her palm where it met the wrist. Her eyes widened at the sight of it and brought back to her an image of blood staining the reflection of the moon in dark waters. The memory of it burned like fire and suddenly everything was clear.

She dropped her hand abruptly, clenching it to her side.

"Give me the Goblin King."

The armored man did not move, but the rose in his hand withered away to dust before her eyes.

"You play a dangerous game, my lady." he said softly.

"I remember who you are, King of the Dead." Sarah said, lifting her chin. "And this is no game."

The King of the Dead gestured, and the mists thinned. To his right was an archway that led out into a courtyard, a small oasis of life and light in the darkness of the underworld. In the center of the courtyard was a great slab of stone rising out of the ground, and lying on it was a fair haired man dressed in stark black from head to foot. His gloved hands were folded on his breast, clasped around a silver sword with black silk streamers bound to the hilt. His eyes were closed in seeming sleep.

Shading the stone bier grew a tall tree with blossoms of purest white. Its slender branches bowed and swept the ground as if it mourned, dropping its petals like tears. Sarah bent over the Goblin King, but he did not move. She touched a strand of his silver-gold hair and called his name softly.

The King of the Dead took a step within the walled garden, and the grass bent with frost under his boot. He stretched out a bare hand, and a chill blast of snow stung Sarah's face and hands.

"Forget him, Sarah." said the King. "Take my hand, and you will have all the power you desire and more... Power even to save the Labyrinth, if that is your wish."

Sarah paused. _Was that true?_

"No mortal or immortal would be your match. You could rule this land as it was meant to be ruled, in peace and prosperity. You could even grant those who have gone the gift of life."

Behind him, the ranks of the wraith court parted to reveal a looming figure outlined in the darkness. Shadow-grey and indistinct, it shuffled forward soundlessly. Sarah squinted to try and see what it might be. Then she gasped, feeling as if all the air had been squeezed from her lungs.

"Ludo!"

Ludo's shade could not speak, but he lowered his shaggy head and lifted one hand before the icy mists swallowed him once more. She strained to catch sight of her friend, but he was lost in the cold and the dark. Sarah thought her heart would break.

"What have you done to him?" she demanded.

"Done?" The King's voice echoed with hollow amusement. "You mistake the situation entirely, my lady. The creature has suffered no harm under my hand, nor will he."

Sarah barely heard him, she was trying to fight back her tears. Did Hoggle and Sir Didymus know? Why hadn't they told her?

The shadowed eyes behind the skull-helm regarded her intently. "The creature is my loyal subject now, but I would yield him to you, Lady of Light... if my conditions were met."

"And those conditions?"

She heard rather than saw the smile in the King's reply. "Come with me and rule beside me. Leave the Goblin King."

"I can't." Sarah's reply was quick, but wavering. She cast an anguished look back at the Goblin King who lay still as death, white petals scattered over his black cloak.

"He cannot save the creature." the King of the Dead reminded her sharply. "Only you can do that."

Sarah looked back at him. "Ludo would live again?"

"A long and happy life as any a beast could live."

Whatever had befallen Ludo, she had one chance to save him, and one chance only. She risked another glance at the Goblin King, who lay unmoving on the tablet of stone. Dark lashes contrasted against his pale cheek, and another falling petal grazed the lean line of his jaw. _Does he dream? Does he think of me at all?_

The King of the Dead bent toward her, sensing her distraction. His breath was a frosty cloud, and with a fingertip he brushed down the length of Sarah's arm to the bare skin of her wrist. His touch burned with a bone-shattering cold she could feel to the pit of her stomach.

"You must choose, Sarah."

The choice should have been easy, and yet it was not. Ludo was her friend, he needed her help. What was the Goblin King to her? He had tricked her, lied to her, called her his enemy.

_Beloved..._

Sarah shook her head fiercely to clear it. She'd been a hopeless dreamer, a foolish child lost in childish fairytales. The one person he least desired to see, he'd called her. And yet, there was something about the way he said her name...

Sarah grew dizzy, and the chill of winter crept a little closer. Indecision and doubt tore at her, tooth and claw.

"There is nothing for you here, Sarah." The King of the Dead's whisper was like a winter wind. He held out his hand once more. "Time is fleeting in my kingdom, my queen. He has caused you pain, but it would vanish from your thought and memory."

The Goblin King had brought her nothing but pain, thought Sarah. But no, that wasn't true. She could not deny he had fought with her, ridiculed her, challenged her again and again. She'd hated him for it.

But it had made her strong.

The King of the Dead mistook her silence. "Do not waste your regard on this one," he said, quiet contempt mingled with pity. "You are not for him. He does not love you, Sarah, no matter what he might say."

Sarah's gaze snapped back to the King.

"He _never _said he loved me." she answered, with dawning realization. "He's never spoken of it to me at all, never uttered a single word all this time. But I..."

She looked down at the sleeping Goblin King. In this dreaming death, he looked like some dark angel fallen to earth, bereft of wings and wrapped in morbid slumber. _Jareth..._ She'd tried to avoid saying his name, even in her mind. But now it haunted her, would not leave her alone until she spoke it-- even if only deep in the silence of her heart. Sarah tried to swallow past the burning lump in her throat. She was pulled between fate and destiny, between death for one and life for another. It was a judgement only she could make, there was no other alternative. _We always have other choices... _a voice whispered in her head.

Sarah looked down once more at the Goblin King. Faint lines etched his face and brow as if his dreams were not peaceful, and where his shirt opened at the throat, Sarah could see a faded ring of bruises around his neck, so light they were the palest of violet shadows against his white skin.

"My fate is bound to his." she said simply. "I choose him."

Something between a sigh and a groan emitted from the King of the Dead, and his outstretched hand began to tremble, flesh melting away until it was only a withered claw. Piece by piece, his armor fell to the ground, revealing wasted limbs that crackled to ashes. Sarah covered her face with her hands so that she would no longer see the gruesome transformation.

His mouth open in a wordless cry, the King's lips shrivelled and shrank back to expose grinning bone, disintegrating slowly until that too, was dust. The wind picked them up and carried them howlingly away as his ivory breastplate fell with a hollow thud. Last of all was the King of the Dead's helm, the sockets stark and empty. It hung in the air for a long moment before falling to the ground, then gave a brittle crack and broke in two.

Without quite knowing why, Sarah wept.

* * *

They were running low on fuel. The last of the furniture that could be salvaged from various rooms of the castle had been chopped and thrown in the kitchen fires, and no more could be had for it seemed the whole of the castle grounds were frozen solid. Sir Didymus, not long kept abed from his adventures, had ventured out at first light with a foraging party, but they'd found little to burn and even less food. Hoggle blew on his cold fingers and for once, didn't begrudge the presence of goblins packed tight around him like peas in a pod. Everyone huddled together for warmth now, and there was little speech or conversation.

"So this is how the world will end," muttered Hoggle. "In ice..."

But Sir Didymus refused to appear let down. Hunkered down against Ambrosius' back as the furry dog dozed, the little knight turned a small cloth-wrapped bundle over and over in his hands, a stubborn expression on his face.

"All is not lost."

Hoggle grunted. "I wish I could be as optimistic as you, but I don't see how. Maybe Jareth could conjure up a roaring fire in every room, but I sure can't. What wouldn't I give for just a bit of magic right now..."

The little knight blinked and stealthily tucked away the little bundle. Hoggle didn't miss the uncharacteristically surreptitious act.

"What is it you've got there, Didymus?"

Didymus smoothed the front of his doublet and burrowed deeper into Ambrosius' furry side, giving an embarrassed cough.

Hoggle threw him a suspicious look. "Didymus, I asked you a question."

"I suppose thou didst indeed," said the little knight vaguely, "But I didn't suppose thou truly expected an answer."

"For the sake of argument, let's say I did." said Hoggle sarcastically. "Now are you going to tell me or not?"

Sir Didymus glanced around at the roomful of unhappy goblins and lowered his voice so that only they two could hear. "Suppose... Just suppose I had in my possession... just the smallest bit of magic?"

"I'd say that fall down that hole must've cracked more than your staff."

"I swear it on my lady's honor," protested Sir Didymus. "It may be the last bit of it in all the Underground, and it might just be what will get us all out of this regrettable situation."

"Then why not use it? What on earth are you waiting for?" demanded Hoggle.

Sir Didymus looked at him in perfect seriousness. "Why, the return of the king."

* * *

_**A/N:** Forgive me, Mr. Tolkien! Also, Hoggle's remark about how the world shall end is an oblique reference to the Robert Frost poem, "Fire and Ice".  
_

_Comments/reviews welcome. In keeping with my new policy, comment replies and progress reports are in my livejournal under **dmacabre**. If you had any questions in the last round of comments, it's likely I've answered it there. (If not, drop me a comment here or in my LJ to pester me about it.)__  
_


	18. Chapter 18: Nightmares and Dreamscapes

**_Author's Notes: _**_ Whew. This was a tough one, requiring several rewrites before I was happy with it. This too, might be a tad confusing because the story seems to jump around a bit. Without trying to explain too much, let's just say that the last incident in Chapter 17 threw things in the Underground into a bit of chaos. Don't worry how people got where they are, because maybe it isn't even real. Or maybe it is. What happens is more important than how._

_  
I mentioned that the story was going to get a little darker. I guess you could say that begins here..._

* * *

**Chapter Eighteen: Nightmares and Dreamscapes**

It was a dream. She stood on the banks of the river Merandanon at night, watching the flames of a bonfire as it leapt higher, licking the lower branches of the trees. A drum was beating and someone was playing a fiddle, something that scraped and wailed with discordant abandon, and all around the bonfire were masked dancers. Dressed in robes of flowing white and gray, they tore at their clothing in grief, and yet the sounds that issued from their throats was wild laughter, like the howling of jackals. Sarah shuddered to hear it, and hugged herself for warmth. The whole scene seemed both real and unreal, and she could feel someone's latent power all around, weighty and oppressive.

A cold hand on her arm made her jump, and she gazed up into an ivory mask with a gold and silver sun disc painted on the forehead. A woman's throaty voice spoke from behind it, framed with masses of flaming red hair.

"It is time for the dance."

She pulled Sarah by the hand into the circle of dancers, and Sarah found herself jumping and twirling in time to the beat, unable to stop. Everywhere she turned, more painted faces leered at her, caressing hands that stroked her limbs softly as she moved through the crowd. A slender youth with brown curly hair and bold eyes behind his velvet mask swung her around by the waist as if she weighed nothing. Cool lips brushed the inside of her wrist and she trembled. He was a stranger, Sarah reminded herself. She would've never let him get so close if this had been anything but a dream...

"Come live with me and be my love," he murmured, "And we will all the pleasures prove..."

Sarah recognized the poem immediately like a dash of cold water. "A honey tongue, a heart of gall..."

The youth struck his heart as if mortally wounded. "Ah, lady! I fear you have vanquished me. What brings you to this place if you seek not a lover?"

"I'm looking for..." Sarah hesitated. What was she looking for?

Her partner laughed at her confusion. "He will not be so easily caught, I think."

He stole another kiss, this time lightly on the back of her hand. "Such a pity..."

With that, he handed her off to another partner, disappearing into the crowd. Sarah looked after him in vain.

_Everywhere a mask,_ thought Sarah. _Yet I wear none._ But she was not entirely alone. As she whirled from one partner to the next, she spied an unmasked face in the shadows beneath the trees, too indistinct to identify. Standing tall in the dark, a man dressed all in black kept his distance from the maddened frenzy of the crowd. She twisted this way and that, trying to catch another glimpse of him. Her current partner leaned in and Sarah found the red-haired woman holding her hands once more.

"Do you desire him, little one?" her breath was cool on Sarah's neck, and she shivered.

Sarah tore her gaze away from the man in the shadows. "I don't know him."

The woman smiled. "Do you not?"

With surprising strength, her partner twirled Sarah faster and faster until she grew dizzy. They spun in increasingly wider circles, until the woman released her with a low, musical laugh. Sarah was thrown roughly into the man's arms and the momentum carried them to the ground in an awkward tangle. Her forehead knocked smartly against his chin, and Sarah landed with a yelp of dismay, forcing an undignified grunt from her companion. She found herself looking down into a pair of furious and all-too-familiar eyes.

"You." Jareth was cold, angry.

"You." Sarah did not feel surprise, only relief. Of course she'd been looking for him. It had been Jareth all along. "I made a choice..."

Jareth appeared not to hear her. With one hand, he tried to yank her off himself by the back of her shirt, but he was lying on her hair and Sarah let out a squeak of pain and protest. The struggled silently for a minute to free themselves with limited success. Finally, the Goblin King gave up and lay flat on his back, amusement and bitterness fighting it out in his voice.

"It seems that no matter where I go, I can never quite escape you."

Sarah untangled herself hurriedly. "Where are we?"

"It is a dream." The Goblin King sat up and looked uneasily at the dancers. "One of death and darkness."

"Then why not change it?"

"You assume I have the power to do so." he replied sharply.

Sarah plucked a twig from her hair. "You assume you don't."

Jareth glared at her. "If this were my dream, I would hardly be stranded in a forest sitting in a pile of wet leaves with you."

"Then what would you choose?"

"Anything but this." Jareth ran a hand through his hair and took a deep breath. "I saw my own death in this dream."

Sarah sat forward intently. "What... what was it like?"

"What do you think it was like?" The Goblin King asked with a dark look. "How would you feel, watching a funeral procession and finding out it was your own?"

Sarah repressed a shudder. "But it can't have been real."

"Oh?" Jareth said. "I can no longer be sure of what's real and what isn't. I'm not dead. But perhaps I am. This is a dream... or so it seems. For all I know, it's one of your making."

Sarah merely looked at him. The Goblin King had dark circles under his eyes and was pale with exhaustion, but he was alive. Fierce exultation sang through her veins. For a moment, she didn't care if this was real or not. They were here. That was all that mattered.

Finally, she shook her head. "Death and darkness have no part of my dreams."

"Strange. They have always haunted mine."

There was no time for caution. Sarah reached up and before Jareth could stop her, she laid her hand on his cheek. "And do you dream of me at all?"

Jareth shifted suddenly, and Sarah found herself shoved aside. "You ask too much." he said tersely, getting to his feet. He looked down at her, shadows once more on his face.

"You should have left when I gave you the chance, Sarah."

Sarah faced him, strangely serene. "I couldn't."

"Could not, or would not?" countered the Goblin King. "You are forever claiming not to have choices. I suppose that makes it more convenient for you to do as you will."

"If I choose, at least I make my own path." said Sarah. "I refuse to sit around and wait for the future to come to me."

"Indeed not. You would rush headlong toward your doom, dragging all of us with you." Jareth turned to leave, but she caught him by the arm.

"You said you saw what your fate would be, that you tried to stop it." she said insistently. "There was one thing you could have done, and I would have never found my way through the Labyrinth, never beaten your game. Why didn't you do it?"

"You don't know what you're talking about."

"But I do. If I was the end of your world, there was a simple solution."

Sarah tightened her grip on the Goblin King's arm and drew closer. Far from protesting or pulling away, he seemed unable to move, unable to break away from her intent gaze. Only the rapid clenching and unclenching of his jaw betrayed his agitation.

"If I hadn't lived, I never would have come here, the Labyrinth would've never been in danger. You could've killed me and that would have been the end of it."

The Goblin King's body was taut, tensed as if for flight. "It wasn't that simple."

"But it could've been." Sarah looked at him searchingly. "Even if you didn't want blood on your hands, you could have simply done nothing when I called you. You could've let me die."

_There._ She felt it, a palpable flinch.

"Then it is true." She released him. "I was in danger, just as Hoggle thought, and you fought for me when you could just as easily have let me go. You saved me, even though you knew what that would mean for this world. Why?"

"I can't answer that." Jareth's voice was hoarse, and his gaze darted again to the dancers.

"I need you to answer it."

_Tell me,_ her eyes implored.

Jareth's pulse pounded ever faster, until he thought his heart would burst from his chest. "Sarah, do not..."

"Please."

Her hand slid down his arm to seize his wrist, and her touch on his bare skin set him afire. He could never think when she touched him like that.

"I--"

* * *

Hoggle paced back and forth at the top of the western tower once, bundled in a heavy cloak made up of hundreds of hides. Judging from the size of the pelts and the smell, he strongly suspected it was made from rat skins, but he dared not ask. Beneath it, he held a small bronze brazier with a few hot coals in it, and it was the only thing keeping him from freezing solid.

"My entire life," he grumbled, "And I've never climbed more than a flight of stairs. Then I climb to the western tower twice in a single week. Didymus, you'd better have a good reason for dragging me up here."

Sir Didymus' only concession to the cold was a jaunty yellow scarf and a matching pair of mittens, which he wore with with his usual flair. He appeared fully recovered from his watery ordeal, for which Hoggle was quietly grateful.

"We keep watch, my friend." he said, grandly gesturing to the scenery below. "It will not be long."

"If you mean the end of the world, I agree." responded Hoggle with a growl. "And it will come all the sooner for us if we stay up here in this wind."

"Verily, you do jest!" chuckled the little knight, oblivious to Hoggle's glares. "It is not for that we must keep vigilant."

"Then for what?"

"That I do not yet know."

Hoggle sighed and chafed the end of his frozen nose. "Keeping watch is going to be a lot harder if we don't know what we're looking for."

Not that they lacked sights to see. Although cold, the air was clear and in every direction the land was blanketed in ice. From here, the ruins of the the King's tower was a snow-covered mound, and the streams of water from the flood had frozen into rivulets that glittered like black diamonds. Even the thorn vine was sheathed in ice, and when the wind blew, they clattered together with a sound like crystal bells. Hoggle might have thought it beautiful if it were not so deadly.

He glanced at Didymus, who was again turning the small, cloth-wrapped bundle over and over in his hands. Earlier, he'd half-persuaded, half-bullied the little knight into showing him its contents, which Hoggle had suspected anyway. Didymus refused to let it out of his sight, and wouldn't allow the dwarf even to hold it.

"That pendant of Jareth's," he said casually. "What does it do?"

The little knight looked up, startled. "Why, nothing. At least, nothing I know of. But his Majesty has worn it always."

"Then how do you know it contains any magic?" asked the dwarf in exasperation. "It could be nothing more than a piece of jewelry."

"Ah." said Didymus. "A mere ornament it is not."

Hoggle clung stubbornly to his skepticism, and Didymus would say no more. The little knight seemed determined to believe that it contained something, a spark of Jareth's power. But all it did was lie there. It was very pretty, to be sure, and Hoggle's fingers itched to touch it, hold it up to the sun to see its shine. It was certain to be real gold and silver, almost as precious and rare as lovely plastic jewels Sarah bad bestowed upon him years ago...

"Friend Hoggle," Sir Didymus interrupted his thoughts. "Art thou well?"

The dwarf blinked, suddenly aware that he'd been lavishing covetous glances upon the small bundle.

"Fine." he snapped, burrowing deeper into the rather malodorous ratskin cloak. "Never mind me."

* * *

"I--"

A dozen reaching hands pulled them laughingly away from the shadows toward the light. Sarah again found herself unable to break free. She could no longer see the Goblin King, but she knew he was nearby.

"It _is_ you, isn't it?" she cried. "Your dream, your--"

She did not get a chance to finish. The dancers set up a loud roar of laughter as if to drown her out entirely. Somewhere, a clock began to chime the hours. _**One... two...** _

"It is time!" they cried. "Time and time and time again..."

_**Three...**_

A man in a demon's mask seized her right arm while a woman with hair the color of moonlight seized her left. Between them, they tugged her back and forth until Sarah thought she would split in two. Unseen hands in the crowd yanked cruelly at her hair and tore at her clothing.

**_Four..._**

"A mortal spy!" they howled, "An intruder among us!"

In the crowd, Sarah could see the young man in the velvet mask she'd danced with earlier, his beautiful mouth now twisted in disgust. The scarlet-haired woman hung on his shoulder, one hand trailing languidly across his chest as she gazed passively back at Sarah.

The woman shook her head, her expression grave. "Such a pity."

_**Five...**_

"Stop this," she cried out, "This is your doing, it's not--"

Another hard twist of her arm choked off her words in an exclamation of pain. Slowly but surely, the dancers were pulling her closer to the bonfire. At her right, the Goblin King appeared, looking angry and worn. He struggled to get nearer, but many hands held him back.

"This isn't my doing," he insisted, "There's nothing I can do."

**_Six..._**

"I don't believe you," spat Sarah angrily, "Nothing here has happened that you didn't control. You were afraid of dying, and you saw yourself die. I'm asking questions you don't want to answer and then this happens. One hell of a coincidence, isn't it?"

For the first time, Jareth looked uncertain. "That's not possible."

**_Seven..._**

"Leaping flames, searing skin," chanted the dancers, "Lift her up, throw her in..."

They were so close to the fire now that Sarah could feel its heat on her face and hear the snap of burning logs. She dug her heels in the ground, struck out at the dancers around her, but it was all to no avail. The laughter of the crowd was more raucous now.

"Don't tell me what isn't possible." she said to Jareth desperately, "Just make it stop. Please!"

Jareth shook his head. He seemed to be struggling with something, a myriad of emotions flickering across his pale face. "It's not me..."

_**Eight...**_

"It _is_ you." Sarah said, trying to grab hold of him. Her voice was hoarse from shouting. "It's always been you..."

The crowd had come as close as it could to the bonfire and they lifted Sarah up on their shoulders. Many hands lifted her higher, until Sarah could feel the cool starlight bathe her face, then the terrible crackle of the flames. She covered her eyes, the smoke searing her throat with each inhaled breath. She'd made her choice. _Please, don't let this be the end... _

**_Nine..._**

"Jareth!"

The Goblin King had never felt so helpless. He could see her, just out of reach, her shrieks tearing at something deep inside him. But a tiny part of him held back, a cold, quiet voice that said, _You need not interfere. You could do nothing. You could simply... let her die. _

**_Ten..._**

They were holding her so close to the flames that now he could smell singed cloth and hair, and still she grappled with her captors, outnumbered as she was. She'd fight them until her last ounce of strength, stubborn until the very end, he knew. Sarah would never give up. But this time it wouldn't be enough.

She needed him.

The Goblin King began to struggle in earnest now, twisting free of the grasping hands one by one. If it were true, if this was a fantasy of his making, he would stop it now. It had gone too far. _Not far enough..._ said the cold voice.

_**Eleven...** _

_No,_ thought Jareth fiercely. _Not like this... _

Jareth broke through the crowd, and as he fought nearer the fire, he tugged the glove off his right hand with his teeth. She was just there, just ahead of him. _Sarah..._

**_Twelve..._**

He reached toward her, straining over the heads of the people separating them. Sarah held her hand out as far as she could stretch and he could just brush the tips of her fingers with his own.

The crowd gave one mighty surge like an ocean wave, drawing back for the final push. Jareth didn't care who got in his way now, all around him he could feel bodies giving way. The crowd's laughter crescendoed to an agonized wail, and they drew back further still...

_No! _Jareth thrust himself forward until he thought his arm would tear from its socket. He grasped Sarah's hand, held it tight in his own in an iron grip...

**_Thirteen..._**

...and then the crowd let Sarah go.

With a lurch, Jareth was dragged forward, his vision full of Sarah's eyes, her white face framed by the starry sky. They seemed to hang in mid-air for a bittersweet eternity and he was drowning in her fear and pain.

_Ah... So this is how it must be, _was his last clear thought before they were both swallowed by flame and darkness.

* * *

_**Author's Notes:** I ought to go back and count up the cliffhangers in this story, just out of curiosity. I don't exactly plan it like this, they just seem to occur naturally. Fun, huh?_

_  
Reference: The chapter title comes from a collection of short stories by Stephen King. The poetry quoted by Sarah and the masked dancer is from Christopher Marlowe's "The Passionate Shepherd to His Love" and Sir Walter Raleigh's "The Nymph's Reply", respectively.  
_

_Comments/reviews welcome._


	19. Chapter 19: The Awakening

**Chapter Nineteen: The Awakening  
**

Something soft struck her on the cheek, then another. It was like waking from a deep sleep, like diving to the bottom of the ocean and rising gradually back toward the light. Only little by little did Sarah become aware of her surroundings, all before she opened her eyes. The air was warm, with a spicy-sweet perfume to it that reminded her that was both exotic and tantalizingly familiar all at the same time. She could feel the sun on her face and something hard and knobbly digging into her spine. Sarah opened her eyes.

She was back in the clearing in the Silverwood, half-reclining against the trunk of a tree laden with fragrant blossoms. Lying beside her on the grass was the Goblin King, his head pillowed in her lap. One hand rested lightly on his breast, the other was lightly clasped in Sarah's own. He had changed. After she'd found him on the floor of the cottage, Sarah had gotten used to the frail translucency of his skin, his battered, bloodless appearance. That was not completely gone, but now you could no longer trace the blue and purple path of each vein down his pale forearm. The shadows had gone from beneath his eyes and the lines of worry were smoothed from his brow, as if he slept peacefully. She marveled at the sight of him. Delicately, so as not to disturb the sleeping Goblin King, Sarah brushed aside a strand of his fair hair and found that the fading ring of bruises around his neck had vanished... as if they had never been.

It felt like spring, and the sun glinted through the branches of the trees, scattering golden light over them. A light breeze sent the boughs to swaying, scattering pink and white petals like rain. Sarah watched him with a feeling of deep contentment, strangely disclined to question how they had gotten here or what had happened. She did not know how long she lay there, face tilted up to drink in the air and light and lost in unspoken wishes.

The spell was broken when Jareth stirred, and he murmured something that might've been her name.

Sarah was seized with a perverse longing to touch him to make certain he was real, and she held her breath as he turned restlessly on her lap. His skin was smoother than she thought a man's skin could be, warm to the touch. She drew a light line down the curve of his cheekbone and across his jaw, brushing his stubborn chin and ending just under the generous curve of his lower lip. _Enough._ Sarah was blushing furiously now, and her heart was pounding so hard she was afraid it was audible to anyone nearby. She drew her hand away just as the Goblin King's eyes fluttered open. Sarah caught her breath. He looked up at her with mild curiosity, mismatched eyes half-lidded and hazy.

"I am dreaming." he said softly.

"No." Sarah replied. "At least, I don't think so."

But she was no longer quite certain. The dancers, the bonfire... It did seem like a dream now, and Sarah's skull began to throb. Early on during her freshman year, she'd gone to a party and had a little too much to drink. This is what it felt like the morning after, strangely drained and spiritless. Sarah remembered the events of the night before-- the grasping hands, the searing heat of the bonfire-- and she felt cold and sick.

Surely it wasn't a dream if she could recall it all so clearly...

Jareth reached up and brushed a few petals from his neck where they'd slipped down into the open collar of his shirt. He seemed not to notice that he still held Sarah's hand as he slowly sat up, rubbing his forehead with a troubled expression.

"I have slept too long..."

Sarah laid a hand on his arm. "How much do you remember?"

Her touch seemed to spark something in him. Jareth froze her with a look and jerked away abruptly.

"Enough."

They sat facing each other for a long, uncomfortable silence, not quite sure what to say or do. Finally, the Goblin King stood and surveyed the clearing, now much worse for wear. The cottage lay in ruins, the walls reduced to piles of broken boards and lumber with the roof tiles scattered about. Jareth prodded a shattered stone tile with the tip of his boot and threw Sarah a bitter, sidelong glance.

"For hundreds of years, it stood on this very spot. Then you come along..."

_How you've turned my world, you precious thing..._

Sarah looked up from where she was sifting through the rubble, looking for her pack. The headache was turning into a full-blown migraine, and she was having difficulty thinking coherently. "I'm sorry, but it's not like I had a--"

Jareth silenced her with a snarl. "Do not," he hissed, "Say 'choice'. I've had enough with you and your choices."

"That's not fair!" cried Sarah, straightening. "No, wait." she quickly amended. "Forget I said that. But you're not being _reasonable_."

The Goblin King began to walk away, but looked back over his shoulder with an arched eyebrow. "Being reasonable, my dear Sarah, is highly overrated."

"Stop it." Sarah grabbed his arm, as much to steady herself as to keep him from leaving. "Quit brushing me off like this. That's exactly what happened in the dream, isn't it? The questions got a little too much for you to handle and you fixed it so I'd stop pushing you for answers. But it won't be that easy now. You can't escape reality."

The Goblin King turned on her with supernatural speed, wrenching free from her grasp as easily if she were a child. "And you think yourself an authority to lecture me on reality, Sarah? You, with your head in the clouds?" He crossed his arms over his chest and scowled contemptuously. "I wonder that you would dare."

"How dare _you?" _demanded Sarah. "You accuse me of always avoiding my responsibilities, but it wasn't me running away last night. Your trickery could've gotten us both killed. Or was that what you wanted?"

Jareth blanched. "You don't know what you're talking about."

"Like hell I don't." Dizzy as she was, the anger momentarily cleared her head. "If you remember it all, then you know everything I said was true."

"You quite overestimate my powers, Sarah. If I could so easily manipulate the situation, what prevents me from doing the same here?"

Sarah shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe you can, but you haven't tried. When I was lost in the Labyrinth, I always assumed I knew more than I actually did. I was wrong. Maybe it's the same with you, and maybe you're wrong about how little control you actually have."

Jareth cursed loudly and heartily in a language she did not understand. "And they call _me_ arrogant. You have learned nothing that I can see. Here you are, still assuming you know more about the situation than I do." He leaned in so he was inches away from her. "Let me tell you something, Sarah. We are _not_ the same. You do not know me at all."

_But that wasn't entirely true,_ thought Sarah. Although trying to convince Jareth of it when he was in this state would be like trying to move the sun and stars. But Sarah was stubborn.

"Maybe I know more than you think."

That had more of an effect than she had bargained for. The Goblin King went suddenly still.

"So you do." he said softly.

Unconsciously, his hands flexed at his sides and for just a brief moment, the sky seemed to darken. Sarah took a hasty half-step back.

"You wouldn't hurt me," she said hurriedly. "I know you won't. If you had that in you, you would've done it a long time ago."

"Is that so?" Jareth's voice had grown low and dangerous. He took a step closer, and Sarah would've sworn she heard a muted rumble of thunder.

"Yes." she said with more certainty than she felt. "I know what you did for me. Something happened to me at Ludo's cave, I still don't know what. You came when I called for you and maybe you had to do that... But you didn't have to go and bring me back from the underworld."

Her eyes flickered down to his side where she knew a scar snaked from his hip to his ribcage, then back up to Jareth's.

Sarah had made her point, and her gaze upon the Goblin King was now defiant and challenging. "You made a choice. Now you can't pretend to be so cold and indifferent."

For just a moment, she regretted her rash words. The Goblin King looked anything but indifferent now. A turbulent tangle of emotions crackled just beneath the surface, like the air before a storm. Sarah backed away a few steps, then a few more until she found herself hard up against the trunk of the crooked little tree. Almost without seeming to shift at all, the Goblin King had matched her every movement. Now he rested one arm against a low branch, head bent to look down upon her with an unsettling intensity.

"And what," he asked in a deceptively calm voice, "Would you have me do now?"

Sarah took a deep breath, and then she did something she'd never done before.

She fainted.

* * *

The coals in the little brazier had burnt to ash, and Hoggle slumped against the wall, shivering. The ratskin cloak kept the worst of the cold out, that he had to admit. Perhaps he'd been too hasty in judging it. It was certainly a plentiful material, practical, warm, and not without a certain rustic charm. Maybe he'd have a vest made out of it when this was all over. _But wait... _Hoggle thought. _When this is all over, there won't be any me to wear a vest. What's more, there'll be no goblin tailor to make it. _ Ordinarily, that thought would distress him, but he was too sleepy to worry about very much now... His head nodded forward, dozing lightly. He began to dream a beautiful dream.

_The apple tree had yielded a bounteous crop. His root cellar was full of apples, a little drying rack hung high enough that Sarah-the-goat couldn't reach it held slices of dried apples, spicy apple butter simmered on the stove and an apple pie rested on the table. His vegetable garden contained the largest turnip anyone had ever seen. Hoggle measured its portruding top daily, trying to predict its final weight and size when he would dig it up. Goblins came from miles around to peep over the garden fence just to catch a glimpse of it, and it had been the talk of the goblin city for weeks._

_Inside, the cottage was sparkling clean, with everything in its place, and Hoggle was preparing to sit down to awell deserved cup of tea and a slice of apple pie, still warm from the oven. Or maybe a slice of bread, slathered with hot apple butter. He had just decided in favor of the pie and was slicing a generous wedge when something joggled his elbow, breaking up his lovely pie crust and sending a chunk of apple pie filling skittering across the table..._

"By the cursed bog!" Hoggle exclaimed with a start, blinking and rubbing his eyes.

He'd fallen asleep against the parapet and his arms and legs ached with cold. And yet he would swear that he could detect the faint scent of cinnamon in the air... Hoggle's stomach gave an accusing grumble.

"I do beg your pardon," said Sir Didymus, blinking apologetically. "But it is your turn to keep watch."

"Right." The dwarf stretched his stiff limbs with resentment. "We're taking turns keeping watch for we-don't-know-what, which will show up we-don't-know-when."

"That's right." said Sir Didymus. He cheerfully straightened his scarf. "Ah, it calls to mind my days on campaign..."

Hoggle silently groaned. Once the little knight started talking about his campaigns, he could not be deterred by a charging unicorn. They could be here for hours.

"... think only of the excitement, never of the waiting. Nay, I sometimes make the grievous error myself of only dwelling upon the glories of battle, and indeed such moments are dearest to mine heart, but..."

_It was such a wonderful dream._ Hoggle sighed. _Five minutes more and I could've been eating that pie. Well, sort of._

"Why, I once had a six hour night shift that..."

_Apple pie,_ Hoggle thought dreamily. _By the gods, if I make it through this alive after all and if there's still a Labyrinth left and an apple tree in all the kingdom, I'm going to make a dozen of them._

"... tedious work, but duty and honor calls, eh, my friend?"

Hoggle crossed his arms over his still-gurgling stomach. "What? Oh, yes... a dirty job, but someone's got to do it."

Sir Didymus nodded approvingly and settled himself against the wall and out of the wind, his tail curling up to cover his nose. His eyes were half-closed in sleep.

"Still, er..."

"Yes?"

Hoggle coughed awkwardly. "Well, it's just that... We _do_ have a whole castle full of goblins to command, and surely one or two of them could keep watch and..."

But the little knight was already shaking his head and making regretful _tsk_ing noises. "I fear not, my friend. Goblins are a good sort, but they wouldn't know what to watch for."

"Er... right." Hoggle's shoulders sagged in disappointment.

His mind was still a little fuzzy with sleep, but the cold air was clearing it with remarkable speed. _It does smell better up here,_ he consoled himself. Down in the kitchens with goblins stacked like firewood, the odor had been... well, best left to the imagination. And the livestock seemed none too happy about it, either. _Still, it had been warm... _

Hoggle thought longingly of roaring fires and hot tea, but then something occurred to him and he shot his friend a sharp glare.

"Wait a second... If_ we_ don't know what to watch for either, what difference does it make?"

Sir Didymus' only response was a faint snore.

* * *

Weakness. It was a luxury kings could not afford, and he least of all. Jareth was not ignorant of history both Aboveground and Below, for it worked the same in both worlds. For as long as life and breath existed, man has ever been his own greatest enemy. Aboveground, rulers who fell prey to such folly were long remembered still: Henry II, Edward IV, Julius Caesar, Louis XVI, George IV. Great men, brought to ruination and sorrow by their weaknesses: greed, haste, lust, envy, pride... desire.

The Goblin King looked down at the girl in his arms. This was not a dream. He had tasted death, swallowed its bitter essence like wormwood on his tongue, forever lost to the light. And yet he was here, and Sarah was with him. He did not know how it had happened, and he wasn't sure he cared to know. But she was responsible somehow, she had managed to undo some of the destruction she'd caused. Jareth did not dare to hope this was true and did not dare to ponder what that might mean. Sarah had changed. She was strong, her will was great... _She is dangerous. _With a strange reluctance, the Goblin King gently lay her down on the grass with his folded cloak beneath her head. He had not seen her so vulnerable since the night they'd spent in his castle, in the room lit with dozens of candles. Flames dancing in the dark, so like that which had consumed them both in the dream. Wasn't that his greatest fear-- to be devoured by heat and fire? But nary a mark was left upon them to bear witness. None that could be seen...

Jareth was uncertain of what to do now. She lay so still, yet her breathing was deep and even. Head tilted to one side so that her hair fell over his arm, she looked entirely trusting. She was just a girl. _So deceptively harmless._ In the cool shade beneath the tree, her bare throat was a luminous white that almost beckoned. Although he could not explain it, the Goblin King had not felt this strong in ages, not since before Sarah had come to his Labyrinth. He had not thought it possible to feel such a way again, and would not now give it up willingly. One hand was all it would take, one hand on that throat to snuff out the life that burned brightly within. She'd been so certain he would not do it... could not do it.

The soft inhale and exhale of her breathing filled him with strange fascination. How could she have been so certain he would not harm her when he did not know himself? Jareth crouched on the grass by her side, keeping silent watch. Almost without realizing it, his hand hovered over the sleeping girl, fingertips brushing the base of her neck. Sarah trembled in her unconscious stupor and murmured something almost inaudible. Curious, he bent nearer to hear it.

The words shook him cold, gave him an odd, shivering chill that ran to the pit of his stomach and burned in his brain.

He hesitated. Jareth might appear a spoiled fop of a ruler, but he was no fool. Over the course of his long life, he'd sought to root out and destroy all weakness in himself, knowing it was his only means of survival. The Goblin King had been ruthless in only the way men with everything to lose can be.

But he had not been ruthless enough...

* * *

_Comments/reviews welcome. _


	20. Chapter 20: The Beginning of an End

**Chapter Twenty: The Beginning of an End  
**

They'd taken turns on watch, one uneasily dozing while the other sat up alone in the crystalline air. Sometime after midnight, Sir Didymus chose not to wake Hoggle for his shift. The dwarf was more tired and cold then he let on, despite his fur cloak. Didymus wondered briefly if his friend knew it was ratskin. Hoggle was sometimes sensitive about such things, but you could not expect too much if you were going to borrow clothes from goblins. The fox combed his whiskers thoughtfully. But all the same, perhaps it would be best not to upset Hoggle by telling him. After all, he'd been such a good sport, truly a fine fellow-- even if he did lack a knighthood.

The little knight adjusted his scarf. Absently, a mittened hand patted the spot over his waistcoat pocket where the king's pendant was safely tucked away and Sir Didymus hummed contentedly to himself. This too, reminded him of his days on campaign, the long, watchful nights without sleep, those still moments in the early hours before dawn when the world seemed to be holding its breath...

The cold was difficult to bear, this was true. But bear it he must, as befits his station and duty. There would be no true rest for him while the king was away from his castle, but all would be well soon. _Very soon,_ Sir Didymus promised himself. He had, however, been slightly uneasy in his mind. Just before he'd persuaded his friend to climb the western tower once more, Sir Didymus had made an unpleasant discovery. Hoggle had left the mirror in his care after Sarah's last summoning and the little knight had guarded it most ferociously. He hoped his lady would call upon him again, but she had not.

On the night of his rescue from the oubliette after the storytelling had ceased and the fires burned low, Didymus had thought to check on it, perhaps ask it for a vision of the Lady Sarah. But to his shock and surprise, he saw not gleaming glass but a mirror blackened and scorched, the surface warped, as if it had been exposed to a great heat. He did not know what to think, and feared it could not bode well for his lady. But yet... Sir Didymus was certain she would win. He could not explain how, not even to Hoggle. But something in his heart told him that she would triumph, and that the king would return._ All will be well again..._

The little knight caught himself nodding off and jerked upright with a silent rebuke. The cold was making him pensive and sleepy, and even he could not pretend to be unaffected by it. He rubbed the tip of his nose fitfully and was displeased to find a paper-thin sheet of ice on it that he brushed away with an impatient flick of his paw. Never in all his long years of campaigns had he faced such cold!

Sir Didymus did not approve of rough language even when no ladies were present, but such circumstances would test the resolve of even the most chivalrous knight.

* * *

Sarah awoke to cold water trickling down her neck and the Goblin King looking down at her with clinical disinterest. He held a delicate little vessel cunningly fashioned out of leaves and twigs, but threw it aside carelessly once he saw her eyes open. Sarah realized her face and the front of her shirt was wet.

"You threw water on me?" she asked in disbelief.

"You required reviving."

Jareth did not look at her, busying himself with tugging on his gloves. She had no idea how long she'd been unconscious, but he hadn't been idle during that time. A small fire crackled nearby, and her saddlebags had been retrieved and lay beside her. They had been carefully rifled through, Sarah noted. She imagined the Goblin King gracefully unpacking and examining each object with a critical eye. How utterly like him to invade another person's privacy while they were helpless. Sarah flushed. _I fainted. How absurdly Victorian._ Would she ever be able to break the habit of humiliating herself in front of him?

And then she realized with a jolt that they were no longer in the clearing. They were in the midst of the Silverwood itself, the trees like columns in a great hall and the waters of the Merandanon flowing past like a silver road, gleaming in the muted gold and green light. Sarah sat up in a hurry, ignoring the painful throb of her head that warned her to take it easy.

"What..."

"I wouldn't get up so quickly if I were you." said the Goblin King with a sardonic look. "Unless you want to risk passing out again."

Sarah touched the cloak that had cushioned her head while she slept. "How did I get here?"

"How do you think?"

Just outside of the fire's light, a dark shadow moved in the trees and Sarah nearly screamed before she realized it was only Rumor. So they'd ridden. Or rather, the Goblin King had ridden, she'd been in no condition to stay on a horse's back on her own. Had he slung her over the saddle like a sack of potatoes? But no, he couldn't have, or she'd be bruised all over. Sarah hoped he hadn't had to carry her, but didn't see any other alternative. The thought of lying in his arms made her feel uncomfortably... something, she did not know what. She couldn't imagine Jareth holding her. _But if he had, it wouldn't be the first time..._ Sarah's face flamed hot, and she hoped it wasn't noticeable in the firelight.

Even though he was perched on a moss-covered log, Jareth had all the majesty of a king upon his throne. He looked almost back to his normal self, stark black clothing immaculate and not a hair out of place. Sarah was encouraged to think this was a good sign. _Maybe. _

If she'd known that the Goblin King was looking back just as warily behind his cool mask, Sarah might have found that reassuring. Although he did not show it, Jareth was no easier in his mind. Their earlier exchange had unsettled him greatly, particularly Sarah's unconscious words. It was obvious she didn't recall them, had no idea of what they'd done to him... Jareth set his jaw and refused to even think about it. There was another issue to concern himself with at the moment, a shadow of an idea that was taking form in his mind.

It was growing dark, and the trees seem to crowd closer. Sarah inched nearer the fire and wished she could sit with her back to the river instead. Not that it seemed entirely safe, either... She chewed anxiously on her thumbnail and wished the Goblin King's reply had been more informative. The last thing she recalled was standing beneath the tree with its trunk at her back, Jareth leaning in toward her with those mismatched eyes fixed upon her unwaveringly. Of all the terrifying things she'd seen, Sarah had a feeling that she'd never come so close to true danger as she had in that moment. The air had felt so close, stiflingly perfumed by the blooms that brushed her hair. She hadn't been able to breathe. Sarah was frighteningly close to feeling that way again now, so she spoke cautiously and kept one eye on the unpredictable Goblin King.

"Where are we going?"

"Back." Jareth was clearly not in the mood for conversation.

A surge of hope. "You're coming back to the castle with me?"

"No." replied Jareth shortly. "But _you_ may accompany _me_ back to the goblin city."

Sarah gritted her teeth, then took a deep breath and counted to ten. "Fine."

_It doesn't matter,_ she reminded herself. _The important thing is that we're going back, and we can do something about what's happening. That's all that really matters._

Seeing there would be no resistance, something in Jareth gradually relaxed and an air of uneasy truce fell over the camp. He bent and picked up a leather knapsack at his feet. He met Sarah's guarded look with a casual question.

"Hungry?"

Sarah nodded, and he threw her the bag. It was an ordinary knapsack, one she'd seen shoved nearly to the back of the wardrobe in the cottage. The leather was worn satiny smooth in places and the brass buckles were tarnished. She'd wondered why the fastidiously elegant Goblin King kept such a worn old thing around when he could easily conjure himself a new one. Sarah couldn't imagine him wearing it.

"It doesn't work if you just look at it." Jareth said with a hint of impatience.

Confused but unwilling to show it, Sarah cautiously slid her hand inside. Her fingers brushed up against a soft, square package, and she pulled it out. The small parcel was wrapped in wax paper. It was a bologna sandwich.

She was unable to keep from staring in disbelief. It looked exactly like the ones she used to pack for her and Toby's school lunches, right down to the ooze of mustard and the pickles. _Damn, I'm hallucinating again._ She reached inside the knapsack again and pulled out an identical one. _Nope. Not unless I'm seeing double._ Sarah shrugged, and bit into her sandwich. It tasted just the same, too, nothing at all strange about it. She'd almost expected there would be. _ I suppose it's just like the pantry in the cottage, it knows what I need. Well, maybe. _Looking up, Sarah caught the Goblin King trying hard to pretend he wasn't staring.

"Um... Want one?" She held out the second sandwich.

Jareth accepted it gingerly, as if it might bite him. He darted a sharp glance at her in case it was a trick, then divested the sandwich of its wrapping, which he threw into the fire. Copying Sarah's every move, he took a cautious mouthful.

Sarah diplomatically refrained from comment as he ate, clearly distrustful of the bright yellow substance that had a dismaying tendency to squirt out at inopportune moments. She was hungrier than she realized, and finished her sandwich before he was halfway through. Wiping her hands on the grass, she watched him, knowing full well the distraction of this foreign food would claim all of his attention.

Gone was the menacing anger he'd displayed before she'd fainted. Now the Goblin King appeared quite changed. His quiet fury had been dampened to a contained spark that flickered in his gaze every time she caught him looking at her. Yet he revealed little, and seemed lost in an air of morose resignation. Sarah wondered what had happened to alter him so.

"What do you think?"

The Goblin King swallowed and paused before answering. "It is... not what I would have chosen. But it is edible."

This, she had not expected. The Goblin King seemed to be making an effort to eclipse his discourteous behaviour from moments before, the food as a sort of peace offering. Now he behaved with an almost exaggerated civility which might have been comical had it not been so grim.

Jareth finished in silence and sat ill at ease. He took up a branch and poked at the fire, throwing on more wood. And then he did something curious that had Sarah staring. With a wary glance at the trees around them, the Goblin King stretched his hand out and there was a a tiny rush of sound, like a small gust of wind. The fire flickered once, then twice, before dying low, the orange flames shot through with vivid blue and green. Though it was now half the size it was before, Sarah could still feel its heat undiminished.

"What was that?" she blurted out. "What did you do?"

Jareth gave her an odd look, as if he did not care to explain. "The Silverwood does not like fire." he said simply. "I have contained it, that's all."

Without another word of explanation, he retrieved the knapsack and rolled it up behind him, leaning against the log and looking up at darkened canopy of treetops and the few stars visible through them. In the now dimmed light that flickered with the colors of the sea, Sarah could not clearly see his face. She moved restlessly on the other side of the fire.

"Jareth..."

The Goblin King gave her a cagey look. "What do you want?"

"It's just that... Since you saved Sir Didymus, I think this is the first time I've seen you do anything... magic."

He looked away again. "And?"

"I wasn't sure you could still... I'm glad, that's all."

"There's little to be glad about." From the dark side of the fire, the Goblin King's reply was succinct. "I am stronger than I have been, but I am not what I once was. I may never be myself again."

"I don't understand. Wouldn't you still be you even without it?"

"You're right." said the Goblin King flatly. "You don't understand."

Sarah crept a little closer to his side of the fire until she was only a few feet from where he lay. "Then tell me."

"There's nothing to tell." Jareth sounded almost defeated now. He raised on arm to cover his eyes and let his head fall back. "And I would hardly discuss it with you."

_Oh, but you will, _Sarah thought to herself. _You and I have much to talk about._

"I suppose... It must be hard, not being able to do something you've always been used to doing." she said, "But you're still king here in the Labyrinth, the goblins are still your subjects. Couldn't you continue to rule as you always have?"

The silence stretched on so long, Sarah wondered if he was too angry to speak, or had merely fallen asleep. But at long length, he sighed.

"It is like losing one of your senses," said the Goblin King, a pensive bitterness leeching into his reply. "Like wandering lost in the dark. I can get by, but for how long? Magic is a way of life here, not like Aboveground. If I do not regain my powers, I cannot rule it in the way it is meant to be ruled. The Labyrinth will not long survive with a cripple for a king."

"I don't think of you that way."

Jareth's reply was muffled, and she couldn't tell if he was being sarcastic or not. "How very reassuring."

"And... if I'm to blame for any of this, I'll make it right. You'll see."

Sarah held her breath, half-expecting another angry tirade. But the Goblin King only sounded tired.

"If only you could, Sarah."

Jareth sat up now, face resting in his hands. "I cannot say why I am here now." he began slowly, "I told you to go, that is the last clear thing I remember. Then it was like some dark dream. I have little memory of what happened... after. Not until the woods by the river, the funeral procession and dancers. And you."

Here he paused, unwilling to conjure up memories of their trial by fire and his own part in it. Jareth looked up at the stars.

"And now we are here."

Sarah started to reply, but he silenced her with an impatient gesture.

"I'm not a fool, Sarah. I know very well how close... " he corrected himself. "How I had fallen into darkness. The very fact I am here is proof of... something. Perhaps you are not the sorceress Didymus believed you to be, but you are not entirely powerless in this world."

"It's not what you think." said Sarah hastily.

But it all seemed like a strange and jumbled assortment of half-remembered images and feelings, too fantastic to believe. Blood and fire, swirling stars with their blazing white heat, the shadow-court and the King of the Dead withering to grave-dust... her fateful choice. Sarah would never be able to explain it all, not even to herself.

But there was no need, Jareth was shaking his head.

"One day, we will speak of it... and how much it has cost you. But for now, I don't think I want to know what you've done." said the Goblin King with great weariness.

"Nothing more than you would have done for me." replied Sarah evenly.

Jareth continued as if he hadn't heard. "And one day, perhaps I will tell you what it has cost me... But not today."

His voice trailed off at the end, almost wistful. As in sympathy with his mood, the fire dimmed to its lowest, the barest shimmer of gold and green. The Goblin King turned to her at last, his eyes a bottomless black in the low light.

"Go to sleep, Sarah."

The command came with a wispy tendril of power that curled around her like smoke. It dulled her senses, made her limbs feel too heavy to lift. Sarah opened her mouth to protest and found herself yawning widely. If she hadn't already been tired she might have been able to resist Jareth's command, but this time she could not.

_That's another one I owe you, Goblin King..._

_

* * *

_

The Goblin King watched her fight the command, half-worried it would not work at all. He was still unsure of himself, uncertain of how much he could do. Already the effort it took to send Sarah to sleep set his temples to throbbing again, and he lay back slightly dizzy and regretting the small expenditure of power. Before, such an insignificant task would've been as effortless as breathing. It was another bitter reminder of how much he had lost.

When Sarah finally closed her eyes, he allowed himself to relax. She lay curled on her side only a few feet away. The Goblin King had not noticed her creeping closer and that alarmed him. He was becoming too accustomed to her presence, too used to that indescribable hum of awareness that told him she was near. Jareth supposed it was an unfortunate side effect of spending so many hours in one another's company. _But that would soon change._

The Goblin King had plans he had not seen fit to share with his traveling companion. He was hoping beyond hope that his strength would return to him, and if it did, he would see to it that Sarah left the Underground-- for good this time. The way would be sealed shut behind her, no Labyrinth creature would ever call upon her or heed her call for as long as he could ensure it. In time, the mortal taint upon his kingdom might fade. Jareth resolved never see her again, and perhaps then the Labyrinth would be safe.. and so would Sarah. But never was a long time.

If he failed, Sarah might be trapped in the Labyrinth forever. Jareth faltered, then cursed his cowardice. He wasn't even sure if he could do it, send Sarah back to her own world. _But I must__. There can be no hesitation, no doubt. _He had been given another chance, just at the moment when he'd thought all was lost. Perhaps there was yet time to avert disaster and see that his vision of an apocalyptic future did not come to pass. He might be able to save the others, even if it meant losing himself..._ Letting one's guard down could be a fatal mistake,_ he reminded himself sharply. _And you cannot afford to make any more mistakes. _

His dizzy spell past, Jareth retrieved his cloak from the other side of the fire and with a slight hesitation, covered the sleeping girl. Again, he was struck by the curious blend of fragility and strength in this mere mortal. Her hair was in wild disarray, and there was a smudge of dirt on her cheek and another on her forehead. But she had faced him down like a warrior queen, even thought he could scent the fear she'd tried to hide from him. For her, he had risked the inferno and everlasting darkness. The Goblin King had risked it all. But Sarah was asking too many questions, stirring up feelings he'd rather leave unexplored. He'd been very, very close to ending that permanently hours before.

Instead, he'd whistled for Rumor and gathered the unconscious girl up in his arms. Unwillingly, his lips quirked at the memory. For such a slender girl, Sarah was heavier than she looked, it had been a near impossible feat to maneuver them both into the saddle without dropping her and he could not have accomplished it without Rumor's patient cooperation. Still without his full strength, the exertion had left him shaking. But the ride...

Jareth rarely had the opportunity to be so close to a mortal. He had held young Toby five years past, after Sarah had wished him away. Just a baby, Toby had already burned brightly with a spark of life that was so different from goblins and all over creatures in the Underground. _Their lives may be short,_ mused the Goblin King, _but they live every moment of it with such intensity... especially the young._ Holding Sarah, however, was very different.

With one shoulder supporting her head and his arm wrapped firmly around her waist, her hair brushed teasingly against the side of his jaw, the warm skin of her cheek pressed against his collarbone. He never realized that could happen, that two people could inhabit such an intimate space. Jareth had never been more aware of a sensation in his life, the soft weight of her body lying limply in his embrace, the length of her leg measured against his own, so very close-- invasion without intrusion. It was as if Sarah was always meant to be there. If the Goblin King was capable of blushing, he would have done so in anger at his own foolishly romantic whim.

Carrying two, Rumor could not travel as quickly. Their pace was slow and as smooth as horse and rider could make it, for he was reluctant to wake the girl, not quite wanting this time to end as he turned her last words over in his mind. _They mean nothing,_ he told himself again and again. _Less than nothing._

But that was a lie.

They were the words he'd wanted to hear for more than five years-- a mere blink of the eye in the lifespan of one such as the Goblin King, but the longest years of his life. He'd longed to hear them, feared to hear them, then given the hope up for lost and let the void swallow his dark desire.

But Sarah had said them. She'd said the words.

_It means nothing, _he insisted fiercely to himself. _I will not..._ But hope with bright wings fluttered and beat against the cage of his breast, as hard as he tried to crush it.

_Nothing has changed. _

_Everything has changed..._

_

* * *

_

_Comments/reviews welcome._

**_Author's Note: _**_I'm currently working on a one-shot story that's an offshoot of this one, and it's called **The Forgotten Dream**. It further explores the relationship between Sarah and the King of the Dead, and gives a lot more insight into his character and past. I'm hoping to have finished it in a week or so, but these things don't always go according to plan. If anyone is interested, there is a short excerpt of it on my livejournal (link on profile page). I haven't yet decided if I'll post it here or not.  
_


	21. Chapter 21: Perchance to Dream

_**Author's Note: **For those of you who might be interested, I've written and completed a one-shot called **The Forgotten Dream** that directly relates to this story. It's quite long, and gives a lot more backstory about who the King of the Dead is and his connection to Sarah. There's also more insight into Jareth's thoughts and actions not covered in this fanfic. The one-shot's timeline overlaps with this story up until Chapter 17 or so, which is where it ends, but it also includes a lot of flashback into the past.  
_

_While you don't have to read it to understand this story, I think it helps. There was a lot of material I couldn't fit into **The End of Days**, because it was just too much to put in one story. I believe the one-shot offers a much deeper look into character motivations and offers more layers of perspective for what happens here. It might also answer some of the questions some of you have about the King of the Dead. I hope you like it if you read it, and thanks for being patient with the delay in updating!_

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-One: Perchance to Dream**

Whether it was the unsettling memory of being lost in the Silverwood or the sleep-command tinged with Jareth's bright magic, Sarah could not say. But her dreams were disturbing, fragmented and razor-edged, like shards of a broken mirror that swallowed the light. In this void there was nothing and no one, only a vague sense of undeniable longing that tugged at her with the soft lapping rhythm of waves sweeping the shore.

_Come back to me,_ came the ragged cry. Sarah turned this way and that, straining to see through the darkness that surrounded her. The entreaty seemed to come from every direction and none.

_Do not go..._ _  
_

Sarah spoke, but the void consumed her words as they fell from her lips, leaving her breathless. She gasped, and the air was stale as tomb-dust, without warmth or life. Putting out her hand before her, the darkness was an almost palpable substance that rippled against her fingertips. _I will come to you,_ she promised. _I will not leave you. Only tell me who you are...  
_

_Sarah,_ the voice called once more, half begging, half commanding. _Come..._

Her hand still out before her, she took one blind step, afraid of what she would encounter. Something in the air brushed her cheek with an ethereal breath, and Sarah shuddered to feel it. She took another step.

_Yes..._ The voice was now brimming with pain and triumph, a sibilant hiss that halted Sarah's cautious advance. She sent an uncertain tendril of thought out into the void.

_Jareth?_

The voice answered her with a wordless howl that shook the air with its fury, a grating scream that made her teeth ache. It tore at her flesh with a glacial blast and sent pain shooting up the bones of her outstretched hand until she thought it would shatter like blown glass. The cold would kill her, seeping into every crack of her being until it choked the very air in her lungs.

_Please,_ she whispered, drawing her hand to her breast and cradling it like a broken thing.

But it was too late. The ground beneath her feet gave way, and she was falling out of time and memory...

**

* * *

**

When Sarah woke the next morning, the Goblin King was gone.

She sat up and yelped in surprise. Her right hand ached abominably, as if someone had smashed it with a hammer. Sarah frowned. She couldn't remember doing anything to it the night before, and could detect no visible injury. If this was the unpleasant after-effect of Jareth's spell, she would give him a peace of her mind, she decided. Flexing her fingers gingerly, she looked around the empty camp. _If I can find him. _

Logically, she knew Jareth wouldn't simply abandon her, not after all that had happened. But waking up a silent, watchful forest was another matter altogether. Surrounded by the ancient trees, it was not so easy to forget that the Silverwood seemed to have a life of its own. Their pale silver bark gleamed as the shafts of morning sunlight pierced the cool shadows. Although it was peaceful, Sarah had the unsettling feeling that the trees had shifted places while she'd slept.

Belatedly she thought of her first journey through the wood, the terrifying ride on Rumor's back as the unseen creature hounded them at breakneck pace. Now that she was alone, could it return? Sarah darted quick glances all around her, but saw and heard nothing. Rumor was nowhere to be seen. The mare had not let the Goblin King out of her sight since their reunion, her dark eyes following his every movement in the camp. Sarah supposed she was with him now. Wherever he might be.

_He could've taken her and left you_, a voice inside her head suggested slyly. _He's made it clear he only tolerates your company because he has no other choice._

_He wouldn't_ _do that. Jareth wouldn't just leave me here,_ she protested. But she couldn't think of one reason why not, and she fought to stifle her panic.

Luckily, Sarah did not have long to wait.

Jareth strode into sight from the direction of the river. While his clothing was the same black he'd worn since she'd seen him again, there had been a slight change. Now the cuffs of his shirt bore a fine embroidered pattern in silver thread. As he got closer, Sarah could see it was a pair of serpentine dragons, chasing each others' tails around his slim wrists. She hid a smile and smoothed her own worse-for-wear clothing.

"You're looking well."

And so he was. The Goblin King looked physically stronger than he had the day before, despite his stony expression. At her greeting, he gave her a tight smile.

"Good morning, Sarah. I wish I could say the same for you, but it appears that sleeping out-of-doors doesn't agree with you."

That was a lie. Cheeks flushed and leaves in her hair, Sarah looked like a wood nymph, even in the dingy silk tunic and breeches she'd had on for days. She wore his cloak clutched around her as a blanket and her hair fell loosely around her shoulders. Something about the scene made the breath catch in his throat. _Dreamer,_ he scoffed.

Without waiting for her indignant reply, Jareth reached in the knapsack and tossed her an apple.

"Get up." he said curtly. "We have a long day ahead of us."

Fuming, Sarah picked up the apple gave it a vicious bite. By now, she was used to the Goblin King's mercurial moods, and she knew that such an abrupt change surely signaled something significant. _So that's is how it's going to be, is it?_

Sarah felt strangely tired even though she'd slept for hours, although she'd sooner die than admit it to the Goblin King. But even more strangely, he already seemed to know. Jareth saddled Rumor himself and packed up camp without a word, shaking his head when she offered to return his cloak.

"Keep it."

Sarah went to refasten it around her shoulders, but gave a soft exclamation when pain shot through her hand. In her annoyance at the Goblin King, she'd forgotten about it entirely. Now it throbbed so badly she could barely make a fist.

Jareth was there in a moment, frowning. "What's wrong?"

"I'm not sure."

He examined her unmarked palm, turning it over in his bare hands and stroking down the length of it with his fingers. Sarah suppressed a shiver, but he did not appear to notice. A look of intense concentration came over him, followed by brief uncertainty.

"You are cold, Sarah." he said lightly. "Nothing more."

He took her hand between his own, rubbing them lightly back and forth without meeting her eyes. A faint whisper of magic. Sarah held her breath as the warmth spread to the tips of her fingers, driving away the pain as it went.

"That is... better." she managed to stammer. "Thank you."

Jareth held her hand a moment longer and she thought he might speak. But in the end he merely gave her a slight nod and released her. He was careful to help her up onto Rumor's back after he mounted, grasping her arm and swinging her up behind him. Now he was all brisk and business-like, impatient to be away. Sarah fidgeted, trying to find a way to sit comfortably, but not too closely.

"You'll have to hold on," Jareth pointed out. "Unless you want me to tie you to the saddle."

"How long do you think it will take to reach the castle?" Sarah asked, trying to mask the awkwardness she felt.

The Goblin King seemed no easier about their sudden closeness, sitting stiffly in the saddle with his back ramrod straight. He seemed to be ensuring that as little of him made contact with her as possible.

"Days, perhaps. I cannot ask Rumor to ride as hard carrying two." He patted the mare's neck reassuringly.

Sarah tentatively wound her arms around his waist, noticing a slight wince as she brushed against his still-tender side. She tried to settle her grip a little higher to avoid it, but Jareth still remained tense, so much so that he almost seemed to tremble.

"What will you do once we return?"

The Goblin King's reply was enigmatic, and she regretted that she could not see his eyes or expression.

"I will do what must be done."

* * *

Sir Didymus was curled up agains the cold, the tip of his tail carefully arranged to block the wind from his nose. He was not sure what time of day it was, only that it was several hours after dawn. Hoggle had awoken with a groan and scolded his friend for letting him sleep through his watch. Reluctantly, Didymus agreed he could use some rest. He had kept watch all night until the first rays of the morning sun streaked the grey sky. It brought little warmth to the two friends in the tower, but it was more welcome than the dark.

If he would only admit it, Sir Didymus was in need of sleep. Standing watch over an enemy camp was less tiring than this endless waiting for he knew not what. All he knew was that he must not fail his king. Seven generations of his family had served the Goblin throne, all with highest honor. If that line should be broken, it would not be Sir Didymus who did not keep his word. No, the king would return, and he would find his loyal knight waiting and ready to serve once more.

"Swords at the ready..." Didymus murmured, half-dozing already. "Take heart, my men..."

Paws folded firmly over his waistcoat pocket, the little fox dreamed.

_It had been a long march in the cold and the wet, the mud dragging at his boots with every step. Separated from the rest of his companions, Didymus was lost in the mist and the rain that sheeted down in a hazy gray curtain. He kept his head down, but the water dripped off his nose and tail in a constant stream and he was beginning to sniffle. It mattered little, he was used to hardship and rough weather. The others had spoken excitedly of the riches that awaited them at campaign's end, for the Goblin King was generous. Rewards were all well and good, but a pair of dry socks would be more highly prized to him now than a chest of gold. That and a bit of goblin cheese would not go amiss, thought Didymus.  
_

_And then without warning, the rain lifted, the fog dissipated and the air grew warm. From nearby came the golden sound of a harp playing a melody he had not heard in years. The little knight looked up in surprise, his ears swiveling forward to catch the music. He was in a forest of tall pines, their sharp, clean scent filling the air. His heart quickened... it could not be. His steps quickened until it brought him to a bend in the path, and there he saw it, a sight he had not thought to ever see again._

_The castle was built of golden sandstone that almost seemed to glow in the basking sun, with bright pennants flying from every tower. Around its base, wild roses grew in abundance, twining up the battlements in scarlet glory. The harp music drifted to him on the breeze, summoning Sir Didymus with its honeyed song and calling to his mind eyes of deep tawny gold..._

_"My lady," he breathed. _

_As he set foot on the drawbridge, silver trumpets rang out to welcome him, and from far away he could hear his lady's voice, warm and full of laughter._

_"My knight has returned!"_

_Sir Didymus started up the the tower steps to his lady's bower, but in his haste he stumbled. The fall lasted an eternity, air rushing past as he tumbled head over heels. It was like dropping into the oubliette all over again, and the little knight exclaimed in dismay. He must answer his lady's summons to court, she was a patient mistress but she could not wait forever..._

"Didymus." hissed a voice. "Didymus, wake up."

Sir Didymus came to with cold stone as his pillow and a momentary confusion. Had he fallen down the tower steps? He shook his whiskers and remembered where he was.

"Pardon me," he said, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "I was but dreaming, my friend. A most pleasant dream..."

"Never mind that," said Hoggle, who was not inclined to be sympathetic about interrupted dreams. "Listen."

Didymus cocked an ear and listened. At first, there was nothing. And then he heard it... faint and slow, but steady. It was the quiet drip of water.

"It's the ice," cried Hoggle excitedly. "Don't you hear it? We're _thawing_."

* * *

They rode following the Merandanon upstream through the Silverwood, Rumor's smooth strides pacing away the miles in sunlight and shadow. As they got further from its center, the trees were younger and not quite as tall. More light fell on the forest floor and warmed their backs, for which Sarah was grateful. While it was not as cold as it had been the night the cottage was destroyed, the air was still too cool for comfort. Sarah shivered beneath Jareth's cloak, but the Goblin King did not seem to feel the cold at all. She huddled as close as she dared against his back. Their conversation was stilted.

"We've been riding forever."

"We've been in the saddle for three hours," said the Goblin King. "And you should know it is a long journey, you made it yourself."

"I did, but Rumor and I were traveling a lot faster at the time." Sarah paused. "Something was chasing us."

"Indeed." Jareth's tone did not invite further detail, but Sarah continued anyway.

"It was something enormous, I could hear it crashing through the trees. It chased us all the way to the clearing... where I found you."

Jareth said nothing, but she could feel the muscles in his back tense ever so slightly.

"The History of the Labyrinth says that this forest is the origin of all life and magic in Labyrinth. What sort of creatures live here?"

"Nothing of note lives here now." said the Goblin King shortly. "Except what you might expect in an ordinary forest."

"But--"

"There could be no creature as you have described. Perhaps you merely imagined it."

"I couldn't have!" protested Sarah in annoyance. "And even if I had, Rumor wouldn't have made the same mistake."

Jareth shrugged and remained maddeningly silent, but his thoughts were already buzzing with alarm. He had told Sarah the truth, no magical creatures had remained in the Silverwood after his departure years before. He had seen to that. If she had indeed seen something, been pursued by it... then it was no flesh-and-blood creature. He resisted the instinct to urge Rumor on faster, and surveyed the woods on either side of them. There was nothing he could detect, yet in his weakened state he could not guarantee their safety if they should come across something dangerous. Alone, he might have a chance at fighting or fleeing, but with Sarah... His lips tightened.

Yet there was one more tantalizing prospect... If the creature was not real, then it could be a construct of grand illusion. Jareth knew of only one such entity capable of working such a deed in the Silverwood against his wards, and he did not know whether to fear or hope for the possibility. The Labyrinth had no voice, no intelligence, no outward manifestation. But that did not mean it did not hear... or act. But to what end?

Jareth had his suspicions. Ever since Sarah's arrival three years before, his kingdom had never been quite the same. Always the Labyrinth was his domain alone, answering to his need and demand without fail. But Sarah's coming had changed a lot of things. The very fact that she survived it, and more incredible yet, had somehow _returned._.. If she had not done so under her own power, then there could be no other explanation than the Labyrinth's intervention.

And if the Labyrinth's creature had purposefully directed her and Rumor's course, then it meant for them to find him. It could follow then that the Labyrinth meant for everything that followed to happen. He wasn't sure if he found this reassuring or frightening, but the Goblin King did not like being a pawn in anyone's game.

* * *

When they stopped for a break at noon, Sarah slid off Rumor's back and nearly fell as her knees buckled underneath her. The Goblin King was at her side more quickly than she thought possible, catching her before she hit the ground. He said nothing, but a faint crease appeared on his brow. Sarah leaned heavily against the mare's sturdy side and waved him off.

"I'm all right," she said hastily, "Just tired, that's all."

She stumbled over to the riverbank and knelt on the ground, splashing cold water on her face. The Goblin King watched her in silence, arms folded across his chest. His unrelenting gaze made her feel uneasy, as if he could decipher her every hidden thought with a single glance.

"You don't look at all well." he remarked in a neutral tone.

"Yes, thanks." said Sarah with what she believed was remarkable patience, "I believe you've mentioned that before. I told you, I'm fine."

The Goblin King only raised an eyebrow and set about readying their meal. Despite her fatigue, Sarah noted with amusement that he did not repeat his gesture of allowing her to choose their food from the knapsack. Instead, he produced a flaky pastry filled with spiced meat and potatoes, still warm. Sarah wrapped her hands around it, relishing the heat it brought to her numbed fingers. It was getting colder the closer they got to the Silverwood's edge. _That's strange,_ she thought. _We've traveled far, but not that far._

Jareth ate little himself, only nibbling at the food and lounging moodily on the riverbank without speaking. He looked a little peaked, as if the ride had tasked his reserves as well, Sarah noticed. _Not that he'd ever admit such a thing, of course. _

More for the sake of breaking the silence than for actual desire of knowledge, Sarah cleared her throat.

"Is there any way of sending word of our arrival? To the goblin city, I mean."

"There is." Jareth tossed the remains of his meal into the bracken. "But it would be foolish to waste energy on such a gesture when we do not know what we will have to face next."

"Oh." Sarah felt a little deflated. "It's just that... Well, Hoggle and Sir Didymus will worry, that's all."

"I dare say they have other things to keep them occupied."

_Like survival,_ thought Jareth. The worsening cold had not escaped his notice either, and the further they got from the heart of the Silverwood's protection, the more he could feel it. He had not spoken of it to Sarah, but he knew that if there was a castle or anyone left alive in it, they would be very lucky, indeed. _A world sheathed in ice, an eternal winter..._

"You shouldn't make fun of them, you know." Sarah finished her pastry and fixed him with a stern look. "Sir Didymus always speaks well of you. He believes in you and he always has."

The Goblin King noted that she had diplomatically refrained from making the same claim on the dwarf's behalf.

"And well he might. Despite a somewhat inauspicious beginning, Didymus has had a long and honorable career in service to my family. He has turned out to be a credit to them after all."

"What do you mean?" Sarah frowned. "Wasn't he always a knight?"

"My dear girl, knights are not born, they are made." Jareth seemed more at ease now, leaning back on his elbows and looking off into the distance. "In his youth, it was not certain Didymus would become a knight-- or a gentleman, for that matter. He was a lowly foot soldier, and not an altogether promising one."

Sarah couldn't help but stare incredulously. Sir Didymus, neither a gentleman or a knight? She couldn't even begin to imagine a world where this was so. "You mean..."

"One of the worst rogues ever to enter the royal service." stated the Goblin King. "His own father threatened to disown him, but hoped that sending him off into service would set him straight. Turns out he was right, it did."

It took a while for her to process that thought. "What changed him?"

"Ah." The Goblin King had a faraway look in his eyes. "I believe it had to do with an adventure he had during his years on campaign... and someone he met."

Try as she might, Sarah could not coax further details from him. But she welcomed the rest, and the chance to laugh-- something she thought she might never do again, and certainly not in the company of the Goblin King. She scrutinized him closely, head tilted to one side.

"You're not as cold-hearted as you pretend to be."

That got his attention and earned her a suspicious glance, but Sarah continued hurriedly.

"About Sir Didymus, I mean. You pretend not to care about him, but you know everything about him."

Jareth gave a nonchalant shrug. "There isn't much to know. Your friends aren't exactly profound personalities."

Sarah shook her head reprovingly. "You don't mean that. I can tell you really like Sir Didymus, maybe even admire him. You can't possibly believe he is that stupid or you wouldn't have taken the time to find out so much about him. But you seem to enjoy insulting him anyway, just as you enjoy professing opinions that are not your own in order to provoke people."

"More analysis, Sarah? I thought we'd gotten past that." The Goblin King was tense now, but kept his tone light.

"I'm just trying to figure you out."

"Indeed?" Jareth did not sound at all pleased, and the easygoing atmosphere was quickly deteriorating. "And how are you managing?"

"Not very well," Sarah admitted, "You change with the wind. One moment I think I know you, and the next, you seem a completely different person."

"Perhaps you would meet with greater success if you did not rely upon such ineffective methods to ascertain peoples' characters," said the Goblin King. "Although it would please me more if you did not attempt to do so at all."

Sarah looked solemn now. "But if I don't find out who you are now, I may never have another chance."

Jareth stood abruptly, brushing the crumbs from his breeches. His expression was once more haughty and unreadable. "You may be right, and I have no cause for regret in that matter. But I would by no means deny any pleasure of yours."

Turning his back on her, he packed up their temporary camp and fastened the knapsack back on Rumor's saddle. Each stiff movement was a study in avoidance and Sarah was left to sit with her hands folded tightly in her lap, watching him in regretful silence. When he was finished, she pulled herself slowly to her feet, leaning against a nearby tree trunk for support.

"I'm sorry." she said without introduction. "I didn't mean to pry."

"Yes, you do." Jareth's contradiction was curt. "Otherwise you wouldn't do it."

Sarah dug her fingernails into the tree trunk and fought down her irritation. "All right, maybe I deserve that. But after all that's happened, I also think I deserve to know a little more about you."

"What we think we deserve and what we receive are not always the same." Jareth did not pause in his packing. "It's time you learned that lesson, too."

Sarah had never felt more like snarling in frustration, but she refused to show it. Instead, she rewarded Jareth with an icy expression. _I think I like him better when he's unconscious._

"You've taught me many valuable lessons, Goblin King." she said coolly, "And I won't forget a single one."

Jareth's eyes narrowed at that, but he did not address her response. With an impatient jerk to tighten the fastenings on Rumor's saddle, he cast her an enigmatic glance.

"Can you ride?"

Here, Sarah had to admit probable defeat. Even after food and rest, her legs still felt like rubber bands. Standing up already made her feel strangely light-headed, and she didn't think she could make it into the saddle by herself. But she'd be damned if she'd let him win that one, too.

"Of course I can." She met his inquiry with a hard stare.

The Goblin King gave a snort of disbelief. "You can barely stand."

"I'll manage."

With a slight roll of his eyes, he seized her around the waist.

"Of course you will, if you allow me to assist you."

Feet no longer planted firmly on the ground, Sarah flailed in the air with an undignified series of squeaks, but before she knew it, she was in the saddle with the Goblin King close behind. Although she doubted he was smiling, she would've sworn he was laughing at her.

"That was hardly necessary." she told him with as great of a calm as she could manage.

In response, his arm snaked tight around her ribs so that she could hardly catch her breath. Jareth drew a gloved hand down the side her neck, lifting her hair and tucking it to one side. His touch was light, but she could feel the heat of his fingertips through the thin leather.

"I never do anything that is unnecessary." he said, his voice strangely low and melodic in her ear. "After all, you don't want to fall... do you?"

* * *

_ **A/N: ** The chapter title refers to another speech from Shakespeare's **Hamlet**. Also, hidden reference to Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice, surely one of the most incredible witty romances and hero/heroine combination ever written!__  
_

_Comments/reviews welcome._


	22. Chapter 22: Something in the Air

_**Author's Note: **I know I mentioned in the notes of the previous chapter about the one-shot I've written that relates directly to this story. Well, if you haven't read it yet, it's probably a good idea. This chapter makes a lot less sense without it, and I honestly think you'll enjoy it before if you've read **The Forgotten Dream** first. _

_I know the one-shot is rather long, for which I apologize. But humor me anyway and take a look, eh? Otherwise you're going to have sooooo many questions and "Buh?" expressions, and any answer I have to them will mostly consist of summarizing the one-shot. Since I'm terrible at summaries, you're much better off just reading the darn thing.**  
**_

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* * *

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**Chapter Twenty-Two: Something in the Air**

He knew it was a mistake the minute he'd done it, born out of the foolhardy desire to rattle the girl. It backfired badly. Having Sarah ride behind him was one thing. Jareth was all too aware of her arms wrapped around his waist, fists clutching handfuls of his shirt. She had taken care not to touch more of him than was necessary, as if there had been a tacit agreement between them. But now that she sat before him...

Awake and none too comfortable, Sarah shifted constantly in her seat, nervously alternating between leaning back and sitting bolt upright in the saddle. At times it was difficult to hold on, but Jareth did not dare let go. Ever since they had left the clearing, Sarah had been unusually tired, although she tried not to show it. She slept too long, but it was a restless slumber and did not restore her energy. He knew little of mortal constitutions, but he knew that she was not well, regardless of her protests to the contrary. That was another cause for concern, and Jareth had many. But it was difficult to think of them now with Sarah so close.

Inexplicably, he found himself wishing she would not pull away, that she would give herself up to him as trustingly as she had before. It had been... he searched for a word, but found none to fully describe how he felt. He simply knew he desired such a feeling again.

The Goblin King grimaced. _This girl has bewitched me. _

Sarah had a way of turning his world upside down, and he had not forgotten the effect she had on the Labyrinth during her first visit. But this was not quite the same. This time, it had been the Goblin King himself who'd been turned upside down-- laid low and cursed by a wishspell so powerful he could not resist its call. Jareth winced at the memory of it, still painfully fresh in his mind. Weak as water he'd been, and even now neither he nor the Labyrinth was quite the same as before. _ It is not the same at all, _thought the Goblin King. _ I have changed._

Jareth hated change. Change brought chaos, and he wanted order and certainty. Sarah represented the antithesis of all that. _All the more reason why she should return to her own world, _he reasoned. It would restore the balance. And he knew there was something that could aid him in this deed.

He'd had little time to mark upon its absence, but Jareth felt it as surely as he would miss his right hand, for he had worn it every day for as long as he could remember. A small, dormant magic lying untapped and unremarked upon-- the most powerful kind. Although Jareth did not know what had become of it after his flight from the tower, it was safe, he could feel that much. And it was waiting for his return.

Sarah shifted in the saddle, once again leaning back into his chest. _Sarah. _ He would not tell her, not until it was necessary. They would journey back to the castle, and by then he trusted his strength would be enough to accomplish what he needed to do. But Jareth would not think of that just yet, only of what would be gained by it. It had to be done.

All would be well.

But his restless thoughts were distracted when he felt Sarah go unexpectedly limp in his arms.

* * *

Rumor's speed quickened, something in her responding to a growing sense of urgency in her master. It was all Sarah could do to hang on, fingers tangled in the mare's dark mane and the Goblin King's arm hard against her ribcage. The reins were wrapped firmly in his left hand as he guided Rumor over fallen tree trunks in their path, moving as fluidly as if horse and rider were one. With her back braced solidly against the warmth of Jareth's chest and the wind in her face, it felt like they were flying. She was not cold now.

_But this can't last forever,_ said a small voice inside her. _When you return to the castle, what do you think will happen then? _Sarah had no answer for that, but instead of making her happy, the thought of their return filled her with a growing apprehension. If Hoggle and Sir Didymus were all right, if Jareth could reorder the Labyrinth the way things were meant to be... then what? She could not stay in Underground forever, Sarah knew. _And why would I want to?_ As much as she loved her friends, she had a home and a family. All the same, she did not like to think of leaving.

Ever so slightly, Jareth's arm tightened around her waist, a sudden and aching reminder that she would leave more behind in the Labyrinth than Hoggle and Sir Didymus. _Even if he's made it clear he doesn't want me here._ But when she leaned back against him, he did not pull away.

The comfort of that contact made her bones feel heavy, as if she were drowning. Weariness slipped over her like the water closing over her head and each breath grew slower and more ponderous. Her mind felt lighter than air, tethered and fighting against the weight of her body as it dragged deeper down. She had only to let go and it would be free. The thought both frightened and exhilarated her at the same time, so when everything around slipped from reality to dream Sarah did not notice it at all.

* * *

A cold mist crept across the face of the sun. One moment, the bracing air swept past her face, then next, it had washed away the woods and the warmth of the afternoon and all was still. Sarah stood by the edge of the Silverwood pool, the clearing bathed in a shadowy half-light that was neither night nor day. The water was a mirror at her feet, without a single ripple to mar its smooth surface. As she watched, mist rolled in over the water, creeping into the folds of her clothing and lifting damp tendrils of her hair with invisible hands.

_I should not be here, _she thought in alarm. _This isn't the way things are supposed to be..._

One by one, the will-o'-the-wisps came alight above her head, like pale stars. Sarah chafed a spot on her left wrist almost without being aware of doing so. It burned both hot and cold, and the feeling seemed to grow in intensity the longer she stood there. The sensation distracted her thoughts, and somehow it didn't seem so very wrong for her to be in the clearing at all.

_Sarah... _A whisper stole like a sigh from the shadows, a tender caress that left her shivering.

She spoke to the emptiness. _I am here. _

There was no answer. But the surface of the water began to stir, a langorous swirling that increased until the pool frothed and boiled with movement. And then there was something more.

A man's sleek, dark head broke the surface of the pool, rising swiftly upwards. Water cascaded over his shoulders and chest, rolling off him in silver streams that left his clothing untouched and dry. He was dressed all in grey with a long white cloak that hung slashed and torn over his tall frame. A raven black sweep of hair partly obscured a face as white as paper, and from behind that dark curtain were oddly familiar eyes.

The man did not move but the water bore him closer, lifting him on the crest of a wave until he was mere inches away. And it was only then that Sarah recognized his eyes-- they were the exact match of her own.

"You." Somehow, Sarah did not feel as surprised as she should've been. "This is a dream."

When he reached out to touch her, she did not flinch away.

"It is a dream," agreed the King of the Dead, his fingers following the curve of her cheek. "But it is a good dream."

His cool touch felt good against her heated skin. As he spoke, Sarah felt a strange calm come over her and she leaned into the stroke of his hand, briefly closing her eyes.

But wait. That couldn't be right.

"How can you be here?" she asked him, "I thought..."

"I can be wherever you are," he replied, lifting her hand to lips. "If you wish it, Sarah. Do you wish it?"

He kissed the underside of her wrist where it ached, a mingling of fire and ice.

"I... don't know. What are you doing?" she whispered. "This isn't real."

But he was quietly insistent. "It could be. You could make it real."

It seemed to Sarah that his eyes burned with a feverish light that frightened her. Something was wrong here, with the clearing, and this man. It was all artifice, like a silk flower or a ballroom of bright dancers...

"This isn't who you are." she told him, trying to pull away.

"I know who I am." The King of the Dead was vehement, and the waters of the pool roiled as if in response to his emotion, then calmed.

"Let me tell you." he said, his voice soft and persuasive again. "I want you to know me..."

He did not let go of Sarah's hand, one thumb tracing light circles on her palm. Now his mouth hovered tantalizingly close, the soft fall of his hair brushing against her cheek. When she felt it, Sarah stiffened. He deftly captured her hand and brought it to his cheek, the flesh cool and smooth as marble.

"Do not go, Sarah. You promised."

His voice was a hypnotic song and Sarah relaxed, closing her eyes in spite of herself. She felt him lean in even closer, interlacing her fingers with his own . He smelled of winter. _And palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss... _

"There can be no harm," he murmured, calming her as he had stilled the waters, "If it is only a dream."

* * *

The next thing Sarah knew, it was night and the clearing was gone. She lay on the ground, Jareth kneeling beside her and shaking by the shoulders. He'd been calling her name, but his voice sounded quite far away. When he saw she'd regained consciousness, he drew back, strange emotions flickering across his face. Sarah rolled to her side, stomach heaving and too dizzy to sit up. It felt altogether too warm, and the damp grass was cool on her forehead. She groaned, pushing her hair back from her face.

"What happened?"

"Suppose you tell me." Jareth sat back on his heels, hands braced on his knees in a tense half-crouch.

"If I _knew_ what was going on, I wouldn't have asked." Sarah felt too sick to truly argue, but it did not escape her notice that his tone was harsh and accusing.

Jareth said nothing, his pentrating scrutiny making her feel oddly guilty. She sat up slowly, digging her fingers into the grass to keep herself from falling over. _I have done nothing wrong,_ she reminded herself. Only for some reason, she wasn't entirely certain this was true.

"It was only a dream."

The Goblin King passed her the water flask, his eyes gone flat and dark. "This was no dream. If you do not tell me, I will discover it on my own, Sarah. You might not like how I accomplish that."

Seeing the look in his eyes, Sarah was inclined to agree. Stalling for time, she took a swallow of water, rinsed her mouth out and spat, then took another cautious sip to settle her stomach. Her head was beginning to clear, but she felt flushed, as if she'd finished running a race. There had been something not quite right about the dream, she remembered. What was it?

Sarah was growing cold again, and her left wrist ached. "I... don't know. I'm sorry, I wish I did."

Jareth examined her critically, noting the color in her cheeks and the nervous intake of her breath.

"You were communicating with someone. Not one of your simple-minded friends this time, but someone else." He paused, expressionless. "I will give you one chance only, Sarah. Tell me who you were speaking to."

Confused, Sarah shook her head. "No one. I don't remember speaking to anyone..."

"You are certain."

"I..." Sarah hesitated ever so slightly. "Yes."

The Goblin King stood then, a dark silhouette against the night sky.

"Then perhaps you might tell me who," he asked, smoother than water over silk, "Is Rael?"

* * *

"Of course I'm not imagining it." Hoggle snapped, his irritable shrug sending his ratskin cloak swirling behind him as he jogged down the tower steps. "I'm not the one who's always going off on flights of fancy, you know."

"My humble apologies," said Sir Didymus quickly, hopping stairs two at a time with his tail out behind him for balance. "I did not mean to imply--"

"Yes, yes, I know we have to be careful and all. But if the ice is thawing, then it must be getting warmer. This means something, I'm sure of it."

When they'd reached the bottom, out of breath and legs aching, Hoggle leaned on the wall for a brief rest.

"I'll admit it, I was skeptical." he said, shaking his head. "Keeping watch and all that. Thought it was rubbish."

Sir Didymus only smiled. He did not seem out of breath at all. He never did, which both amazed and irritated the dwarf to no end.

"But you were right," continued the little man grudgingly, "And I give credit where credit's due. If we're thawing, it means Sarah's been able to do something good, and maybe there's hope after all."

Sir Didymus diplomatically refrained from mentioning that this had been his view all along.

"You are undoubtedly correct, Acting-Majesty." he said cheerfully. "I will send out a scouting party, post-haste."

Hoggle had recovered from his shortness of breath and nodded grandly. "Do that. But you and I will check the castle grounds ourselves."

Snow and ice had fallen through the open roof of the throne room, and now the melt had created rivulets of water that collected among the rock and debris. Hoggle ordered troops of goblins to clear it out and sweep up the floor.

"It'll be the first cleaning this dump has ever gotten that I can recall." he grumbled. "Well overdue, if you ask me."

"It's the chickens," said Sir Didymus by way of explanation, "Good natured and wonderful layers, but regrettably messy personal habits."

Work goes surprisingly quickly when you have a hundred motivated goblins, and the throne room was cleared after a day's labor. By nightfall, a few ceiling timbers had been propped back into place to prevent further roof collapse, and Hoggle surveyed it with satisfaction as if it had been his own handiwork.

He wasn't thrilled with the idea of Jareth returning-- not the way Sir Didymus was. But a kingdom needed a king, and Hoggle had been ruler long enough to know that it wasn't the job for him. As nasty as the Goblin King could be, no one could deny he ran the Labyrinth well, and he'd soon see that things were set right. More importantly, Jareth would see that his kingdom was still in one piece and only a _little _worse for wear.

"Didymus!" said Hoggle sharply, "Watch what you're doing there, you'll fall and break your dratted neck."

The little knight was perilously perched on the top of Jareth's hastily repaired throne, directing a team of goblins as they hauled up a timber on a rope-and-pulley. It took half a dozen of them hanging on the end of the rope, and the wooden beam swung wildly this way and that past his head.

Sir Didymus waved his riding crop. "A little to the left. No, no, the other left, my good fellows! Just a few feet more..."

Hoggle squinted. "Didymus, that rope's seen better days. I think you should--"

The goblins gave another powerful heave and with a dry screech, the rope snapped, sending the beam crashing to the ground and Sir Didymus tumbling off his perch.

"Seven hells!"

The dwarf rushed over in panic, waving clouds of dust from his face. Behind the throne Sir Didymus lay on a pile of musty straw, blinking in surprise. Hoggle heaved a sigh of relief.

"If I didn't know better, I'd say you were a cat with nine lives, only you've gone through half of them already."

"Did you feel that?" Sir Didymus paused in the act of retrieving his hat where it lay a few feet away, the edge of it squashed beneath the massive timber.

"I think the whole castle felt it." said the dwarf sarcastically. "_You_ barely made a thump, but that beam hit the ground like a wagon load of bricks."

"No, not that." Didymus stood up, whiskers quivering and ears swiveling this way and that.

Hoggle motioned the cackling goblins to be quiet and listened. There it was, a low rumble, almost too low to hear.

"Not thunder again," he said softly. "It can't be!"

Didymus shook his head, "I think not, but..."

The rumble grew louder. It was not thunder. They could feel the growing vibrations in the ground and for one sickening moment, the stones shifted beneath their feet. Hoggle let fly a heartfelt curse and clutched the back of the throne for support. Everything swayed, then grew still.

"What the hell was that?" he demanded.

Didymus had both paws clutched to his waistcoat pocket, but relaxed as soon as the shaking stopped. "My great-grandfather told me of such a thing when I was a kit, but I did not believe it." he said in wonderment. "In his travels, he'd visited a land far away where the ground shook daily and fire belched from the hilltops."

Hoggle was trying to recover his dignity. "That sounds like a fine children's story."

"My great-grandfather swore it was so! Once, he said, the ground shook so much it cracked the earth like a clay pot, swallowing trees and an entire village. He barely escaped with his life."

"Hmm, yes. Your ancestors do have the most confounded luck." Hoggle paused. "But such a thing has never happened here... has it?"

"Not to his memory." replied Sir Didymus. "But a lot of things have happened here as of late that never happened before."

Hoggle groaned. "I knew it. I just _knew_ it was too good to be true. Hope, my foot. We're doomed!"

He kicked aside a half rotten crate in disgust, but something hidden behind it caught his eye. He bent down for a closer look.

"Well, I'll be..."

It was a bowl. Ordinarily, Hoggle would've thought some goblin had left it behind, only the bowl was of silver, the workmanship plain, but fine. The bottom of it was polished to a high sheen, and it was full to the brim with ice melt. Not a single drop had spilled in all the commotion.

Didymus crowded in for a look. "Why," he said, "It's as clear as a mirror."

* * *

Even the Goblin King could not explain why he felt the way he did now-- a cold rage that burned in his brain, purifying all his emotions until everything seemed cold and crystalline. He knew of no one in his kingdom by that name, and it did not sound like name of goblin origin. Not that he'd seriously entertained such a notion. He knew no goblin had caused the brilliant color staining Sarah's soft cheek, nor that quickened rise and fall of her breast...

Without warning, the pile of kindling he'd gathered for their campfire burst into flames just a few feet away, and Sarah flinched.

"I thought you said you couldn't waste energy on gestures." she said, glancing at the burning wood.

It hadn't been deliberate, but he did not acknowledge that. "And I thought you hadn't been speaking to anyone."

"I told you, I don't know who Rael is." insisted Sarah.

"For a complete stranger, you certainly seem well acquainted with his name." said the Goblin King, his tone unmistakably acidic. "And from the way you said it, perhaps well acquainted with more than just his name."

Sarah blinked, her face flaming and at a loss for words for a few seconds. "You're insane."

"And you're lying."

"Right," she said, dragging herself up, "I don't have to take this."

In a moment, Jareth was there, barring her path. "You owe me an explanation."

"What we think we deserve and what we receive are not always the same." retorted Sarah with certain satisfaction. "Remember?"

"This is _not_ the same situation."

"Isn't it? That's just too bad. For you."

Her knees wobbly, she started to walk away when the Goblin King seized her arm in a bruising grip. Her sleeve fell back and Jareth's eyes fixed upon a spot on the underside of her left wrist.

"What is this?"

His voice was a low hiss. He pulled her roughly to him for a better look, and Sarah stifled a whimper. The firelight on his face made him look demonic. The Goblin King peered closer, and now she could see it, too. There was a small spot on her arm, hardly bigger than a fingerprint and shimmering with reflected light like the surface of a butterfly's wing. The sight of it both frightened Sarah and sent a strange little thrill down the curve of her spine.

"I... I've never seen it there before."

Without letting her go, Jareth slowly drew off his left glove and brushed tentatively at the mark with the tips of his fingers.

Something seemed to spark angrily at him, and he released her with a snarl. Sarah rubbed her arm where his grip had left a scarlet imprint on her flesh.

"What is it?" she asked warily.

Jareth recovered quickly and was already tugging his gloves back on. "Don't pretend you don't know whose work that is," he said furiously, "When because of you I have made an enemy of him."

The Goblin King seemed inclined to rage further, but he choked off his own response as if he suddenly regretted the words. Sarah rubbed the mark, which seemed part of her skin. It seemed harmless, although she had to admit that it was now growing hot to the touch, as if it, too would burst into flames. But she had little time to ask further questions, because the Goblin King now had her by the other arm and was pulling her to her feet. She had never seen his face so icily blank, as he'd retreated behind a wall and locked the door behind him.

"Where are we going?" she asked.

"_I_ am going back to the castle," he said, his voice a guttural growl. "_You _can go wherever you wish, but it will not be with me."

"What? Wait! I'm not pretending anything," protested Sarah as he dragged her further from the camp. "I don't even know what it is."

Jareth did not pause, ignoring her feeble struggles. Murder flickered in his eyes, crimson and black. "It is his _mark_, you faithless girl. You have allowed him to brand you like cattle, to lay claim to you until the end of your days."

"Who are you talking about?" she said, panicking, "I haven't allowed anyone to mark me. I don't even know what that means."

Sarah stumbled along, unable to do anything else for fear of falling. She suspected that would not deter the Goblin King either. Now they were far from the fire and the underbrush tore at her skin and clothes, but still he did not halt their progress. She tripped over a rotten limb and twisted her ankle painfully, but Jareth's wrenching grip held her upright.

"Say something," she begged. "Jareth, don't do th--"

"All along," he said, eyes intent on some future destination, "You must have known. You knew to summon me, knew I would come for you, even to the ends of the earth."

His voice was so low, it was almost as if he was not speaking to her at all. Now she was too exhausted to struggle, and with one arm around her waist, he hauled her upright, half-carrying her as he strode through the woods. It was nearly pitch black, but he moved unerringly around trees and rocks in their path.

"Did it please you, Sarah?" he asked, almost conversationally. "I thought you'd given up your toys, but I was wrong. You have found other playthings, far more dangerous."

"This is crazy! Stop this, at least tell me what you're accusing me of and what it has to do with the dream..."

The Goblin King laughed bitterly. "Ah, yes. The dream."

He judged that they'd traveled far enough and now he let Sarah fall to the ground contemptuously. She lay on the forest floor stunned for a moment, the scent of dank earth and leaves rising up around her.

"You do not know what dangers you court." he said darkly, "Whatever he promised you, it is nothing but illusions and lies. The Shadow King can bestow nothing, create nothing. He can only destroy."

Slow realization began to dawn on her. There could only be one enemy Jareth spoke of, only one destroyer.

_Come with me and rule beside me. Leave the Goblin King._

_You must choose, Sarah..._

The thought of it made her feel ill. She did not know how much Jareth knew of what happened, or how much he suspected but would not say. It was all too clear in Sarah's memory but altogether surreal, as if she were watching it from a great distance.

"I still don't understand what you're accusing me of," she said calmly. "But this... person you speak of promised me nothing."

He grabbed her arm, turning it wrist side up. Sarah gasped. Even in the dark, the mark was still visible, silvery and luminous.

"_This_ is his promise, Sarah." said the Goblin King, "Though I do not know what it entails."

Sarah shook her head in confusion. "But it doesn't mean anything."

"It means everything." Jareth crouched down beside her, his voice a hoarse whisper as if he feared to be overheard. "It is an old mark, not new. Long has he haunted your dreams."

"My dreams..." Sarah spoke as if in a trance. She was beginning to remember.

"What did he promise you, Sarah? Tell me." His voice shook. Jareth was beginning to lose the thin veneer of cool detachment.

"He said," replied Sarah slowly, searching her memory. "That he would give me a gift..."

The Goblin King's grip contracted painfully, his voice diminished to a broken whisper. "Did he tell you he would make you his queen? Did he promise you the world, my Sarah?"

Her sharp intake of breath told him all he needed to know, and he dropped her wrist as if the contact burned him.

"I have not let you out of my sight." he said quietly. "Not for a single second. But it seems I cannot guard you in your sleep, and you betray me in your dreams."

Sarah fought back her tears, but they burned in her throat. She swallowed hard, not understanding. "I would never betray you, Jareth."

But he had already turned to go, brushing aside her outstretched hand. Once again, he was untouchable and remote as a pillar of ice.

"Do not say my name." he told her, his command toneless and dead. "Do not think to summon me, I will not come. I have stayed too long. You and I will not see each other again, Sarah Williams."

* * *

_**A/N:** References to Lord of the Rings (films, not the books), and Sarah's quote of "Palm to palm..." is from Shakespeare's **Romeo and Juliet**. The chapter title refers to the Bowie song by the same name, off his Hours... album, and was chosen because it seemed appropriate to the subject. **Heist**, I am going to bet this isn't exactly what you anticipated...  
_

_Comments/reviews welcome. _


	23. Chapter 23: Falling

_**Author's Note: **Hmmm, not much to say here. This chapter's a bit shorter, but I think there's enough in it to keep everyone occupied until the next update._

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-Three: Falling**

Sarah had never been afraid of the night. Always before it held endless mystery, the promise of sleep and beautiful dreams. No more. Moonrise lit the small clearing in the brush where she lay, and Sarah could hear she was not far from the river. She could not see the light of the campfire, and darkness had swallowed the Goblin King so completely it was as if he'd become a shadow himself.

_He's gone,_ thought Sarah, numb with pain and misery.

She could not believe it, because he'd always been with her. She realized it only then, that whether or not she was alone, his presence could be felt everywhere. Jareth _was_ the Underground. But she could not feel him now. Sarah cried a little, half-hysterical, choking sobs she smothered with her shirtsleeve. She sat unmoving, huddled among the roots of a tree like a frightened animal while the seconds ticked by like hours. Time had little meaning when each minute dragged by in an eternal night. From far away came the haunting cry of an owl, but she flinched to hear it. Sarah knew she should get up, try and follow him as best she could. Her ankle throbbed, and she didn't think she could stand.

She was so tired. But she didn't dare sleep.

* * *

He chose an oblique path, wanting to be certain the girl would not find her way back to camp. Sarah spoke, but he did not hear her words. Fury drove the Goblin King like a madman and his grip on her arm was hard enough to bruise that white flesh, hard enough to leave... _A mark._ Rage robbed him of all other feeling, but he welcomed the numbness. _False words and empty promises._ All his dreams come to nothing. All her pale beauty a lie. Jareth wanted to fly, to scream. He wanted to do her harm.

But he did not. Instead, the Goblin King left her alone in the dark woods to seek her fate. _Seek it far from here, Sarah_, he wished upon her. _You will have no part in mine._

Now he crashed blindly through the trees, uncaring of his direction and leaving a trail of broken undergrowth in his wake. Branches tore at his clothing, but he did not notice them or feel the bloodied scratches they left on his arms and face. All he desired was the absolution of open sky, the crystal moon calling.

Jaeth's strides grew longer, more swift, and he lifted his face up to the wind. He slipped easily into his owl form between one step and the next, launching himself skyward on silent wings. Guilt and anger besieged his brain, and he longed to rid himself of this unwieldy tangle of human emotions. Though he did not always revel in the fierce appetites of his raptor shape, tonight he welcomed them.

_Blood and meat,_ he thought with envy. _A predator has such simple desires. _

When he screeched his hunting call, it was one of anguish and despair.

* * *

It was a fever dream, and she was caught halfway between sleep and waking in the shadowy limbo between worlds. Sarah lay on her back in the fallen leaves, the cool earth doing little to ease the heat that built up in her body until it was almost unbearable. She tossed and moaned. The trees loomed above her, their half-bare branches arching like claws over the night sky. The moon hung in the heavens like a ripe fruit just out of reach, and in her feverish daze Sarah thought she could almost feel its pull upon her body like the tides.

_Just close your eyes..._

Sarah blinked, trying to fight the urge to sleep. _I can't give up. I have to make it back to the goblin city. King... or no king. _

Ignoring her bruised ankle, she dragged herself off the ground, feeling her way toward the river. The King of the Dead's mark burned her, she could not touch it without crying out and even the soft brush of her sleeve against it sent her sensitized nerve endings into screaming overload. Gritting her teeth, Sarah pushed the feelings away and focused instead on the parched burning of her throat.

_Water. I must get to the river._

She crawled on her hands and knees over tree roots, the underbrush catching on her clothing and tearing at her hair. When she finally reached the riverbank, the water was blessedly cool on her face and she drank until her stomach ached in protest. Sarah bathed her arm, both drawn and repelled by the way the mark shone in the moonlight. She grabbed a handful of wet sand and gravel, scrubbing at it until her skin felt raw. It was unchanged. She would never be rid of it. Stretched out full length on the bank, Sarah let her hair hang in the current, the dark strands disappearing in the even darker water.

"Hoggle," she whispered, "Sir Didymus. I need you..."

_Please,_ she begged. _Please answer me._

For a long time, there was only the liquid sound of the river burbling over smooth stone. Then the water began to shimmer and ripple in the moonlight, and from very far away she could hear a faint conversation.

_"...clear as a mirror."_

_"There you go again, waxing all poetic. It's just water, and we've got plenty of that lying around in puddles everywhere."_

_"Verily, I would agree, but this bowl seems particularly special, friend Hoggle."_

_"Yeah, because it's Jareth's. Everything of his is special, and that means I'm not touching it for all the turnips in the goblin city. And you'd better not fool with it either, if you know what's good for... Sarah?"_

Hoggle's puzzled face swam into view, blinking in confusion. Beside him was Sir Didymus, whose face brightened immediately.

"My lady!"

"Sarah, you're safe! Thank the gods... Tell us where you are. Have you found Jareth?"

"I'm all right," said Sarah, almost too happy to speak, "And... I found him."

"I knew you would triumph, my lady." crowed Sir Didymus, "We are awaiting your return!"

Sarah wiped away her tears. "That's the problem, Sir Didymus. I don't know if I'm coming back. Something's gone wrong, he's so angry..."

"What?" Hoggle leaned forward so far that his face seemed oddly distorted. "What happened, Sarah?"

"Angry with you?" Sir Didymus seemed genuinely puzzled. "His Majesty is occasionally of uncertain temper, but..."

A swirling eddy shattered the glassy surface, breaking up their images. The voices grew faint.

"No," Sarah cried, "Don't go, not yet!"

She was hungrier than she realized for the sight of her friends, their warm smiles and open faces. Sarah wasn't sure she could bear it if they vanished and left her here, alone in the oppressive dark. The tears once again flowed freely, mingling with the dust on her face in dirty streaks. She staggered to her feet, covering her eyes with the heels of her hands. Sarah needed not to be alone, she needed someone or something to drive away the cold that crept over her.

"Jareth!" she cried out at last. "Jareth, please!"

She strained her ears for the slightest sound, a voice, the soft rush of owl's wings.

There was nothing.

Sarah stumbled and her swollen ankle buckled beneath her. She dug her fingers into the damp earth, but could not rise. Against her will her eyes began to close, and a cold mist drifted in from over the river, twinkling with tiny green globes of light.

_Beloved..._

A sigh stole from the darkness, soft and sweet. It wrapped her in despair, cradling each tender limb with the promise of oblivion. It offered her refuge from the pain, a gentle undoing of thought and memory.

_Only come to me,_ the voice promised. _We will belong to each other, and you will never be unhappy again..._

Sarah dreamed that the promise gave her strength, infused her spent body with cold fire until it lifted her from the ground. She dreamed that the river was aglow with pale blue light that banished the darkness, and that a figure all in white waited on the opposite bank, his hand held out in silent welcome. She took a shaking step toward it, then another until she stood on the gentle slope of the riverbank overhanging the water. Beneath it, the waters ran fast and deep.

_Just a little further, Sarah mine..._

"Yes," replied Sarah, her eyes half-lidded with exhaustion and speech slurred, "It doesn't look that far..."

She stepped into empty air and fell, the swift river closing over her head without a single splash. The currents tangled around her body like icy ribbons, pulling her ever deeper. She looked up, past her outstretched arms and the water's surface where the moon hung low and bright over the river. The water was achingly cold, filling her mouth as she tried to scream.

_Drink, my love, _ came the voice, hushed and seductive in her ear. _Drink deep..._

Little by little Sarah ceased to feel, already her fingers were numb. Just on the other side of the water, the moon shone silver and gold, forever out of reach. Sarah kept her eyes fixed upon it as she sank deeper, until a shadow crossed its face and the light was lost to her.

This was no dream.

* * *

"She's gone." Hoggle sat on the ground in a pile of damp straw, his weathered face slack with shock as he thought over what they'd seen.

Sarah's wild-eyed image faded from the reflection in the silver bowl just as quickly as it had appeared. She was alone somewhere in the Silverwood, with only a cold and distant moon for light. Hoggle cursed silently to himself. They'd been wrong to let her go, and now Sarah was paying for their mistake.

For once, Sir Didymus seemed at a loss for words. He furiously preened his whiskers, muttering under his breath.

"She didn't look at all well, Didymus. Sarah's been crying. If Jareth's done something to her..."

The little knight shook his head fiercely. "I cannot believe it."

"More like will not." retorted Hoggle. "He's capable of it. Jareth's capable of anything."

"His Majesty would not harm her."

"Why, because he loves her?" Hoggle demanded. "Oh yes, I know your silly theory. When are you going to see it's nothing but a fantasy? He's left us here to deal with this catastrophe of a kingdom, and now Sarah's in trouble, too. The man is a tyrant and a liar, and if you think he's going to look out for you and me, you can think again."

Sir Didymus drew himself up stiffly, the very picture of affronted sensibility. "Verily, if thou were not my friend, I would challenge thee to a duel for thy words."

"Oh, don't start that with me." said the dwarf angrily, "You've always been blind when it comes to him. Loyalty's a fine thing to have, but our lives mean something, too!"

"The life of a knight is meaningless without loyalty and honor."

"Good thing I'm not a knight, then, because I only have to worry about my loyalty to my friends and not some overbearing king. " He paused. "Speaking of which, I want that trinket of Jareth's."

If Sir Didymus was capable of turning white beneath his fur, he would have. "That is... impossible."

"Like hell it is. If it's got any magic left in it, it can be used to save Sarah. It's a far better use for it than _he'll_ use it for, mark my words."

"You are mistaken, friend Hoggle," said the little knight, warily inching back with one paw on his staff. "I cannot bestow it upon anyone because it is not mine to give."

"Don't be such a stickler, Didymus," Hoggle said irritably, advancing upon the fox, "You've got it and possession is eleven tenths of goblin law."

Sensing a battle eminent, the goblins had scattered... but not too far. Curious eyes peeped from the doorway and from every nook and cranny in the half-finished roof. Several bystanders nodded in matter-of-fact agreement at Hoggle's astute grasp of legislation.

"Law or not, this is a matter of honor." said the little knight resolutely. "I wish I could oblige thee, my friend, but it is as I said-- impossible."

Hoggle gaped. "You can't mean it. You swore to help Sarah and protect her if you could, Didymus. If that shiny bauble can save her, you had better damn well hand it over."

"I did vow to aid my lady," said Sir Didymus with dismayed regret, "But I made a promise to His Majesty first."

"Stuff His Majesty!"

The little knight drew his staff and held it at the ready before him. "I made an oath, and I cannot forsake it. If this jewel thy desire, thou must take it from me."

"You--!" Hoggle was struck speechless, his eyes bulging in disbelief. "You hairy little traitor!"

With a roar, he sprang at the fox only to have Sir Didymus step smartly aside and apply a sharp whack to the back of Hoggle's knees. The dwarf went down in an undignified heap.

"A thousand apologies." cried Sir Didymus, doffing his hat quickly before dashing out the door.

"Didymus!" yelled Hoggle, untangling himself from bits of broken chicken crate. "You're mad!"

He picked himself up painfully, thankful that nothing was broken. Hoggle glared at the goblins who were falling over themselves with hysterics.

"Don't just stand there, damn you! Go after him!"

As a group they dashed out into the courtyard and past the castle gates only to meet with a shocking sight. Lightning crackled across the night sky, jagged crimson against black without a rain cloud to be seen. It gave even Hoggle reason to pause. Something in the air sang with the rage of the heavens, a feeling of deep foreboding that shook everyone down to the soles of their feet.

Only Sir Didymus paid it no heed. The little knight had already saddled a sleepy Ambrosius and was spurring him into one of the long Labyrinth corridors. Before his friends could pursue him, the ground gave another powerful heave, then an ear-shattering crack that sent goblins flying everywhere. When the dust cleared, Hoggle sat up groaning, shoving the stunned bodies of goblins off his chest. Sir Didymus was long gone. The air still smelled of ice and winter, but overlaid it now was the scent of something that reminded him of smoke. Hoggle rubbed at his eyes, blinking away the grit.

A massive chasm had opened up, splitting the Labyrinth neatly in two.

Cautiously peering over the edge, Hoggle dropped a fist-sized chunk of rock into the ravine and waited. It disappeared soundlessly into the dark, as if devoured by some gaping maw. Though it had been growing warmer, the dwarf shuddered.

"What now?" he wondered aloud. "I hate not knowing what's going to happen."

One particularly bold goblin joined him at the chasm's edge and shook her head reproachfully. "Something is going to be horrid..."

* * *

Blood stained his beak and talons, gore clinging to the feathery tufts of his breast. The kill was swift and merciless, and now silvery moonlight filtered through the canopy of leaves as he flitted from shadow to shadow. It was a beautiful night, the air was cold and crisp. He'd seen the land beyond the Silverwood cloaked in silent drifts of snow, glittering like the absent stars.

It brought him no peace.

The owl took flight again to pierce those great heights and put distance between him and that dark clearing by the river. Storms raged through his head and heart, and the night's serene quiet did nothing to soothe him_. Betrayed._ The thought still shook him to the core, something he had not expected. _But I should have. _Yet there had been something, Jareth had been almost certain... For the hundredth time since he'd left her, the Goblin King probed the dull ache of his regrets. _Mortal hearts. So fragile... and so fickle. _

Even in his other shape, he could see in the dark better than any mortal, and Sarah's face still haunted him. Pale as the moon, eyes fever-bright but near blind in the dark. He'd found that comforting, knowing she could not see him, could not see the pain and despair that must surely be written upon his face. _It was necessary,_ he reminded himself. As great a danger as Sarah had been before, now she represented an even greater one.

Jareth only suspected he'd made an enemy of the Shadow King. After seeing the dread king's mark upon the girl, he knew. The king had chosen the one adversary who'd beaten Jareth, the only one with any power over him. Whether she'd knowingly made a pact with him or not, she was a pawn-- one that could be used against the Goblin King. If this Rael wished him harm, he only to harm the Labyrinth through Sarah. Then his revenge would be complete, indeed.

_I have stayed too long. _He should leave, he knew that. Unburdened by any companion and riding the wind, it would only take him a few days to return home. He could--

"Jareth!"

The wind carried the sound of his name along to him, thin and sweet and full of desperation. The shock of it was a blow to his fierce predator's heart, one he had not thought he could still feel. _Do not say my name,_ he'd commanded her. _Do not summon me. _

Yet she called upon him still, and Jareth found himself unconsciously turning toward the sound of her voice, almost lost among the tangled bracken. _No! _He wheeled abruptly in another direction, beating his wings in fury. _Do not think of her. She is lost to you. _

She called his name again, higher, more pleading.

His wings faltered. Jareth screamed his sorrow, the cry tearing from his throat like blood sacrifice. _It is no use._

Sarah belonged to another.

Rage crippled him, he flew heedless of what lay in his path. Jareth cursed his frailty. He could not linger here, there was nothing for him. If the Underworld King intended to have his revenge, he could not leave the Labyrinth and his city unprotected. He must leave, make his way back to the goblin city. Alone.

And so he might have done if his weak heart hadn't betrayed him in turn. One last turn, one last look at the doom that might have been his own...

It was not difficult to find that dark clearing. Something in the earth and air called out to him, and always would. High as he was, the Goblin King caught the scent of something dangerous on the wind, of old blood and winter. The waters of the Merandanon looked black from above, but his keen eye saw the mists that curled across its banks, the flickering of will-o'-the-wisps in the distance. _False witchlights,_ he thought with sudden cold apprehension, _Luring the innocent astray... _

His flight brought him closer, although his instincts screamed for him to be away. Then Jareth saw her, standing on a high embankment over the river's edge, pale as a wraith. Sarah's hair hung loose, dark locks moving as though blown by the wind although there was no breeze to be had in the shelter of the wood. Her lovely face was empty of all but a strange, dreamy look, as if she was watching something or someone far away. _ Enough,_ he said sternly. _You've looked on her long enough._

But Sarah took a hesitant step. Then another. He saw her fall unresisting, a silent white shadow swallowed by the dark swell of the river. One moment she hung in the air wrapped with mist and witchlight, the next it was as if Sarah had never been there at all. The owl shrieked, disbelieving.

She did not surface again.

_What must be must be,_ said a cold voice within him. _Do not interfere. Let her go._

For the space of a few wingbeats, he hesitated, strangled by uncertainty and longing.

_I cannot..._

_

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_

Only Rumor was there to witness the strange unfolding of events. Nervous and trembling with agitation, she knew her mistress needed her, but something she could neither see nor smell barred her path. The mare tore at the earth and paced this invisible barrier, first in one direction, then another. When the river took the girl, she whinnied shrilly, hooves slicing the air and dark eyes wild with fright and anger.

She was only an animal. An extraordinary animal to be sure, but Rumor had no words to express what she felt, only raw instinct that cried out at the wrongness of it all. This was not how it should be.

Then from out of the open sky plummeted a great white bird, one that screamed as it fell, screamed and _changed..._

_

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_

It is said that the waters of the Merandanon run deep in the Silverwood, cutting through earth and rock to the very center of the world. There were depths pierced neither by daylight nor moonlight, and it did not matter if Sarah opened her eyes or not. The whole world had grown dark, blood thundering slowly in her ears as she sank toward murky oblivion. Her hair rose and fell on the billows of the current, and a siren call drifted up to her like the waving ropes of river-weed that twined around her body.

_To me,_ it crooned, a mad love song.

Sarah floated through the watery void, held captive by the current and the voice's tender allure. _Are you there? I think I made you up inside my head..._

_No, lovely Sarah, _it sang, _A little while longer and we shall be together for always... Only say my name, and it shall be done._

A slick strand of weed caressed her throat, and Sarah shuddered to feel it. Like a creature of nightmare, it moved like a live thing, hungrily seeking. She twisted to avoid it, but her mind had grown cold and lethargic. _I shouldn't be here..._

_Do not struggle. Do not defy me, Sarah..._

Sarah froze where she was, the river-weed forgotten. _What did you say?_

_Everything you wanted, I have done. I have reordered time..._

_No. _Sarah began to struggle in earnest now, tearing herself free and kicking toward the surface. _Those are not the right words._

The currents became invisible hands, pulling her in all directions and dragging her down. Sarah fought them, kicking harder.

_No! _cried the voice._ Do not leave me, _it begged soundlessly. _Say my name..._

She shook her head fiercely, tiny silver bubbles rising from her lips. _I do not remember. _

The voice gave a ragged, angry sob, one that made cold prickles break out all over her skin.

_You promised me..._

_I am so sorry, _thought Sarah._ I cannot._

_

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Years later, Jareth would not be able to say how he'd found her. His second plunge into the river was like a living death, an icy embrace that robbed him of breath and sight. Lost in the dark waters, he could only reach out blindly around him, both fearing to find her and not being able to bear the thought that he might not. He had no breath to form the words, and nothing he could say would have made it past the bitter desolation that rose up and threatened to choke him. _If she was not to be found..._ Jareth didn't allow himself to complete the thought. His air had all but given out, but he ignored the burning of his lungs and dove still deeper.

Her body was tangled in river-weed, slippery green-black ropes of it that he tore at with his hands. Sarah was limp in his arms, but he clasped her to him as he struck out for the surface, his face buried in the curve of her neck. Something hot stung his eyelids, soon lost in the rush of the chill water.

_You cannot give up. Not you..._

It took forever to break free of the river's hold. Somewhere between the dark and the light, his lips found hers, warm and seeking, his fingers wound in the wet tangle of Sarah's hair. They broke through to the open air, Jareth holding her so tightly to him that he could not be sure if her heart still beat within her breast, or if it was merely his own that he felt. He drank in the sweetness of her mouth, drowned in it with the wet tendrils of her hair wrapped around him. It was exquisite madness, and he wished for it never to end. Jareth was afraid to let her go, fearing to see her eyes forever closed to him.

_Breathe,_ he thought desperately, putting all he could into the command. _Only breathe, and I will ask for nothing else..._

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_

It started out small, a brilliant pinpoint of light against the darkness like a distant star. She was almost gone, but it did not ask for much. _Wait,_ it said. _Only breathe... _Quiet and insistent, it would not let her shut her eyes, would not let her go to the undiscovered country and leave the light. It would not let her sleep._  
_

Sarah waited._  
_

The light grew larger until was it was a white and shining thing that encompassed her entire vision. Where before she had only known the grim shadows, something called to her that reminded her of the warmth of the sun and the scent of grass underfoot. Sarah yearned for it, reached toward it with the last of her dimming thoughts. That last thread which tethered her to the dark had drawn thin, spun out long and frail as spider's silk. She floated above it now, and Sarah strained against it one last time with all she had...

The thread snapped. She was free.

When she opened her eyes again to the world above, Sarah found herself entwined in the arms of the Goblin King and she gripped shredded handfuls of his shirt and clung as if she never meant to let go. Where their lips met was a song of ice and fire, newly awoken senses flaring painfully to life. Sarah wished she could drink in the warmth of his body pressed against hers, to take that heat into her cold flesh and make it her own. Unbidden, her fingers skimmed up the length of his arm and grazed the lean line of his jaw.

_Oh yes,_ thought Sarah. _I do want him._

_

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_Reference:_ _As she's drowning, Sarah recalls a line from Sylvia Plath's "Mad Girl's Love Song"._ _Also a nod to George R.R. Martin's fantasy series at the end._

_Comments/reviews welcome. _


	24. Chapter 24: Strangers Till Now

**Warning:**_ This is a good time to remind people that this entire story carries with it an **M** rating. This chapter earns it, so if you even remotely suspect you might be offended by the potentially graphic nature of this chapter, please do not read any further. Don't say I didn't warn you, because I most certainly did. And consider yourself warned again for good measure. What, are you still reading? I would've thought you'd be scrolling down like mad by now...  
_

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**Chapter Twenty-Four: Strangers Till Now**

When it ended they simply held on, treading water against the river's current. Sarah clung to the Goblin King and gulped the cool night air, trying not to cry. _Don't let this be just another dream, _she thought. _I can't bear it if this isn't real._ But he felt real, his arm tight around her and one hand stroking her hair. She leaned into the protective curve of Jareth's shoulder, taking comfort from the heat of him.

It was so very cold. Thin, jagged panes of ice swirled past them on the river's flow and ice crystals frosted Sarah's hair and eyelashes in silver-white. The Goblin King brushed at them absently, lips grazing the soft hollow of her temple. She shivered in his embrace, the drowned maiden he'd pulled from the dark waters. Jareth pulled her closer. He had to get them out of the river. He had to get her warm. But for the longest time he dared not move, and it was enough just to be. _If I cannot control my destiny, _thought the Goblin King_, This may be our end. _Faint but steady, he felt the flutter of Sarah's heartbeat and closed his eyes._ But so be it. _

He swam them both to shore, staggering a little as he lifted Sarah out of the water. She could barely stand, and water-weed still wound around her legs and arms, trailing behind her in dark streamers. The river did not want to let her go. The sight of her crouching pale and exhausted on the gravel shore, reminded Jareth of what he had nearly lost. If he did not move quickly, the Shadow King might claim her yet. He wrung water out of his tattered shirt and helped Sarah pull off the clinging weed with fingers nearly numb from cold. She shook like a birch leaf in the wind and did not complain, but at last he could bear it no longer and grabbed her hand.

A feeble burst of energy surged down through Sarah's fingertips and she jerked a little. The sensation wasn't unpleasant, but it startled her. She looked to the Goblin King for explanation but Jareth held her fast, avoiding her gaze.

"It will not harm you," he said, concentrating. "Be still, Sarah."

Countless needles pricked her skin as the blood flow was restored, the warmth gradually spreading through her limbs until she could move again. Sarah touched the hem of her shirt and exclaimed in wonder. Even her clothing was dry.

When it was finished, the Goblin King released her and collapsed against the trunk of a tree, his face white as paper. Sarah hastened to hold him up, but he pushed her away, coughing feebly. She watched him retreat, an impassive mask slipping into place. Sorrow and panic made her want to grab hold of him before he could leave her again, but she resisted, her nails digging bloody crescents into her palms. She contented herself with merely looking at him, the words forming silently in her mind. _Stay._

Jareth blinked, and for a moment, she thought he'd heard her. Droplets of water sparkled on his lashes and ran down his face, his mouth set in a stubborn line. He struggled wordlessly with something, and the awkward silence stretched thin between them. He was about to speak, to say something that would shatter it all. Sarah could not let him.

She placed her hand on his lips, marveling at their softness. "Don't," she said quickly, "Not before I--"

The Goblin King took her hand, folding it between his own and drawing it down to rest between them. "Sarah," he began, his voice heavy with pain and reluctance, "This cannot--"

It was now or never. Sarah took a deep breath.

_Fear me, love me... Do as I say and I will be your slave... _

"I love you, Jareth. It always been you. There is no other for me."

The Goblin King closed his eyes as if she had wounded him, the breath in his throat momentarily stilled.

"Nothing will ever change my mind," said Sarah in a nervous rush, "But if you don't..."

But she was silenced by the Goblin King opening his eyes. They were bright as blue flame, shining with fierce exultation. Sarah took a step backward and pulled free from his grasp, but he did not appear to notice. All around them, the silverwoods swayed under an unearthly wind, their branches singing a high, thin song as the leaves fluttered and fell.

As she watched with growing consternation, the water streamed off his body like quicksilver, his torn shirt shifting form and color like a chameleon's skin. Within moments the last shreds of his clothing had gone, replaced by linen and lace, elegant breeches and vest in deep blue silk. Dove-colored gloves encased his hands from wrist to fingertip. Jareth laughed and it rang through the Silverwood like golden bells. All the age and weariness dropped from his face, and now he stood taller than before, streaks of violet in his pale gold hair. He turned to her, his face blazing.

"Yes," he breathed softly, "At last I understand."

This was not quite the reaction Sarah expected. Before she could think to speak, Jareth took her by the shoulders. She could feel magic radiating off him in heated waves, and a scent that reminded her of starlight over the water. To her dismay, an all-too-familiar darkly arrogant smile that came over his face.

Still keeping his hold upon her, he flexed one gloved hand experimentally and a crystal appeared, hovering just over his palm. One small gesture and it flew into the air, soaring up through cathedral of trees above them and filling the clearing with a light as bright as day. Higher and higher it flew, past the tops of the trees and into the night. A flick of Jareth's finger and it burst, sending a shower of starry sparks raining down upon them.

Sarah swallowed apprehensively. "You're back."

"So I am."

Jareth slid his hand down to her wrist, turning it over and gazing at the silvery mark that shimmered a little fainter now on her white skin. His expression was unreadable,with only his eyes like glowing cinders to betray his thoughts. Sarah did not move away, suspecting that even if she had tried, he would not have allowed it.

"And what are you going to do?"

Jareth drew off his gloves, and his bare hands looked oddly vulnerable to her eyes, pale and slender in the moonlight. He crumpled the gloves and let them fall to the ground, forgotten. He did not so much as glance at them again, instead taking a purposeful step toward Sarah. It felt like a ritual, a dance of measured steps, and when the Goblin King took her face in his hands she felt a tingling current at their contact.

Jareth drew in a slow breath, smoothing the skin of her cheekbones beneath his fingertips as if he were memorizing every detail. All the barriers between them had gone. He brushed the edge of his thumb over her lips in a soft gesture, looking at her as if he were seeing her for the first time. Sarah wanted to close her eyes, standing as still as she could so he would not stop. She turned her head slightly, leaning into the pressure of his fingers. Everywhere he touched her left a trail of heat.

"What would you have me do, Sarah?"

Sarah's throat closed up, she could not speak. A dull throb of pain in her wrist began working its way up her arm, an ominous reminder and warning. She blinked back tears. _Save me._

"Yes," said the Goblin King, "I will do that."

His kiss was swift and hungry, sending a sweet ache down the length of her body. This time there was no distraction of an icy river or frozen limbs, and she gave herself over to it completely. Jareth's mouth was both hard and yielding, tongue entering her with firm, plundering strokes that matched the rhythm of his caresses. She moaned against the unexpected invasion and pressed closer, his fingers splayed tight in the small of her back. When Jareth released her for a breath, she looked up into his eyes. One was icy blue, the other dark with a ring of topaz fire. _They are beautiful. _Sarah wondered why it had taken so long for her to see them, to understand what was unspoken. Suddenly daring, Sarah leaned forward and nibbled the fullness of his lower lip, catching it gently between her teeth before releasing it with a tiny flick of her tongue. The Goblin King gave a low growl and his arms tightened possessively around her.

Encouraged, she threaded her fingers through the silken fall of his hair, explored the taut line of his jaw. Sarah could feel the rapid pulse of his heartbeat beneath her fingertips, and then it seemed unbearable to her not to touch more of him. She tugged the hem of his shirt free, sliding her hands up the flat of his stomach and over his chest. He was smooth and hot to the touch, slightly damp with perspiration. The rise and fall of his breast quickened as Sarah raked her fingernails lightly over his skin, and he paused, lost in distraction. Every part of him tensed, but he did not move, only stood there as if carved from marble. As she watched, a bead of sweat trickled down his throat, and Sarah found her breathing came with great difficulty. Touching was not enough, she wanted to taste him.

She disengaged herself from him with great effort and pulled open his shirt, trailing her tongue to dip down first into the hollow of his throat, then the ridge of his collarbone. Jareth tasted of salt and spice, something both familiar and exotic all at once. She licked her lips and grazed the satin skin of his chest, tracing slow, wet circles that spiraled ever outward. He clasped her shoulders hard, as if he wanted to push her away and keep her there at the same time. Only when he gave a small intake of breath did she move away only to turn her attention to the sensitive spot just beneath his jaw, nibbling delicately.

His face buried in the fragrant tumble of her hair, Jareth groaned helplessly and spoke her name. She ignored him, trailing her hand tantalizingly downward, slipping her fingers just inside his breeches to stroke the velvet skin beneath. The Goblin King's reaction was electric, and before she could take another breath, he had her up against the trunk of a tree, the bark cool and rough against her back. He made a noise of frustration deep in his throat, hands slipping beneath her thighs to raise her higher in one rough, desperate movement.

Now it was Sarah's turn to cry out as Jareth began again, deliberate and slow, his kisses burning a fiery trail down her throat. She tasted like milk and honey to him, and he almost purred, savoring the way her breath came in little hitches and sighs. If the mark on her arm still hurt her, she did not show it, and Jareth's elation smouldered below the surface. Sarah twisted in his grasp, but he did not let her go, instead reaching up to graze the creamy undersides of her breasts with his fingertips. His mouth found her nipple through the silk of her shirt and it tightened at his touch. He bit down lightly, suckling until the cloth grew warm and wet beneath his tongue. Sarah gasped and arched into the curve of his body, and Jareth relished the feel of her against him, taut as a bowstring. _I will give her pleasure to drown the pain, I will make her forget..._

He grew impatient with even the flimsy impediment of her clothing and returned to her mouth and its sweetness like ripe berries. Sarah sighed in disappointment, but he stilled her protests with kisses.

"My destruction," he murmured against her lips, "And my salvation..."

Hands again beneath her thighs, he let her slip down and wrapped her legs around his waist, the weight of his body pinning her firmly against the tree trunk. Sarah writhed but could not escape his iron grip, and with a bruising kiss he ground his hips against her. The hardness of his arousal shocked her, and he moved with an almost taunting deliberation, pressing into her sensitive flesh. She could feel the unyielding length of him through the thin cloth, the delicious friction kindling a slow burn low in her belly.

"Jareth... Please..."

When she spoke his name, he trembled in her arms, but gave no sign that he'd heard. With unsteady hands, he pulled her down onto a bed of leaves, rolling her beneath him. Sarah tugged at his shirt, wishing it gone and wanting to feel all of him. Finally Jareth reached up and shrugged out of it as quickly as he could before taking her in his arms again.

"Sarah," he said, his lips brushing her throat, "Beloved."

Sarah cried out in pain and stiffened in his embrace. The King of the Dead's mark flared with heat, a living brand upon her body. She sobbed to feel it sear her to the bone, and Jareth snarled in response. Crouching above her with his shoulders bare and ivory in the moonlight, he looked like a feral creature. Rage and jealousy lit his eyes, but he restrained his anger, wrapping Sarah closely in his arms.

"Softly, my Sarah," he told her. The Goblin King's eyes were full of hunger and compassion. "This will not be easy on either of us, but when it is over he will have no hold upon you. I mean to claim what is mine."

Unable to speak for the agony, Sarah nodded through her tears.

He kissed them as they trickled down her cheeks, tasting her sorrow. Then his hands were at her waist and she heard the sound of silk tearing, the night air cool upon her thighs. Sarah breathed in the scent of moss and rain mingled with the saltier musk that was Jareth, and in a moment he was there again, heavy upon her. Gone was the elegance and composure of the Goblin King she'd known. He fought to control his breathing and she could feel the heat of him hard against her, building her need to an unbearable pitch. Jareth moved above her, a thin sheen of sweat on his brow. He caught her hand and brought it to his lips, fever-hot against her cool skin.

"I will hurt you," he warned her hoarsely, "And I will not be able to help it. This is your last chance to say no, Sarah. Later, I... I may not be able to stop."

Sarah looked up at him and her stomach gave a strange little flutter, but but she raised herself up and slipped her shirt over her head. The air had grown cooler and a damp mist drifted through the silverwoods, but Sarah shivered because his eyes were upon her. She pulled him to her and brushed her lips along his jaw in a brief, sweet exploration.

"Don't stop. Whatever happens, promise me you won't stop."

Jareth hissed as she shifted underneath him, the damp curls of her sex brushing against his shaft. He pressed her to the ground, wanting to see pale beauty of her body on a bed of emerald moss and leaves. The mix of fear and desire in her eyes was intoxicating to him, and he ravaged the alluring whiteness of her throat and shoulders, cupping her breasts and rolling the tight buds of her nipples in his mouth. She tasted so sweet, Jareth wanted to devour her as if she were both lover and prey. Sarah sensed that hunger, but did not recoil. She wound her hands into his hair, curling around his body like a cat.

Her ragged sighs set his blood on fire, but it was too soon, she was not yet ready. Jareth slipped further down, tasting the velvet of her belly. Sarah tensed, both curious and afraid. She had never let a man get so close, and she didn't know how it would feel. The naked hunger in the Goblin King's eyes frightened her, but she longed to let him touch her, let him do whatever he wanted. A strand of his hair blew feather-light against Sarah's thigh and she nearly jumped. But Jareth held her, stroked her from hip to knee, murmuring words of reassurance against her skin. The low hum of his voice and the unhurried caresses calmed her, until he parted her trembling thighs with his hands.

At the first touch of his mouth upon her, all her fears were forgotten. Sarah's head fell back, her mouth open. She could not control her movements now, the way she unashamedly opened herself to him, wanting more.

"My...god..." she said with a choked whimper.

Jareth slid his fingers over her sensitive mound, following them with his lips and tongue. He tasted in her the savory tang of the ocean, a sweetness like the nectar of a rare flower. Sarah moaned and twined her fingers in the hair at the base of his neck as he increased pressure, dipping into the slick folds of her sex with growing urgency. She writhed but he held her firm, sliding his hands beneath her buttocks to bring her even closer. Sarah wept and dug her fingers into the earth, but he did not stop. She did not want him to stop.

His tongue delved even deeper in rhythmic strokes, laving the hard little bud of her and suckling gently as Sarah's soft cries escalated. She was slippery as river-weed, her hips canted upward to take him. Jareth thought his own hunger would drive him mad, but he waited, fingers tracing wet circles on the inside of her right thigh while he ground the palm of his other hand against her. She was ready. He slipped two fingers inside her, her passage tight and wet around him. He hoped it would not be long, because Jareth did not think he could bear it, this act so close and so far from what he wanted. But he did not have to wait. The sudden intrusion made Sarah arch off the ground, her cries reaching a desperate peak, and that was when he struck.

He gave no warning, not wanting her to flinch. As she climaxed and he rolled the creamy salt of her rich upon his tongue, Jareth pulled back and spread her thighs to the moonlight. There, the milky whiteness of her inner thigh, softer than anything he had ever touched. There he marked her, biting down hard and without hesitation.

The feel of him inside her and the pressure of his palm drove Sarah closer and closer, although she was not yet satisfied, she still wanted more. She ached with need and drew breath in order to beg, command, say whatever it took for Jareth to come to her. Heat built in her like a growing bonfire, she was so close... When she felt his teeth close upon the tender meat of her thigh and pierce the skin, Sarah screamed, pain mingling sweetly with pleasure as it sent her hurtling over the edge.

She did not know how long she lay there, sobbing and spent. When she opened her eyes, Jareth crouched above her, breath coming hard, his eyes wild and mouth smeared with crimson. Sarah glanced down at the bloody ring that marked her thigh, but he gave her no time to respond. With a snarl, he threw himself on her, holding her down on the forest floor. His lips tasted of blood, salt, and dangerous promise.

_I will hurt you..._

She clawed at him in fury, but he paid her no need. Raising her hips with one hand, he guided himself into her with one hard thrust. There was jagged, brief agony, and she muffled her scream in his shoulder. He was impossibly rigid but slid inside her like wet silk, filling her in a way she had not even imagined. He hurt her, but Sarah wanted it more in spite of that, wanted to move against him and hear the sudden catch of his breath. But she had no voice to speak her desire.

Frozen by her cry of pain, Jareth did not move for a few long moments, only cradled her in his arms and kissed her a dozen times, then a dozen more. She could feel him straining to hold back, shaking with the exertion and apology.

"The worst is over," he said softly into her hair, "I promise you, love. It will never be like this again."

His kisses were hesitant and searching, as were the hands that ran over her body to explore each curve of her body with tender deliberation. The rosy peaks of her nipples tightened again with a brush of his palm, the soft down of her belly rising to meet his touch. He slipped a hand between them to begin the sweet, stroking pressure that soon had her gasping and pressing herself against him. When she was ready, he began to move inside her, slow movements that had her mewing in pleasure instead of pain. Jareth groaned as he thrust into her again and again, sheathing himself in the wet heat of her. Their animalistic mating was darkness and light, death and rebirth, and he wished it never to end.

_Mine,_ he gloated silently as he looked down upon his love, _She is mine._

Her lips parted in a sensual sigh, Sarah's legs tightened in a delicious clutch around his waist and victory sang in his blood like a battle cry. Far, far away, Jareth thought he could hear someone weeping, but he felt only fierce triumph. She wanted to feel him everywhere and he wanted to touch her, fingers tracing delicate patterns down her spine, cupping her buttocks and raising her hips so he could thrust even deeper. His strokes were long and punishing now, each one piercing her to the exquisite core.

"Beloved," he whispered, looking down into her eyes.

Sarah took rapid, shallow breaths, this time not so gentle as she drew her nails down his back. The heat was building inside her once more, an insistent ache in her thighs that had her arching off the ground. Her cries grew louder, her hips rose to meet each surging thrust. Raising herself a little, she bit down hard on the spot where his neck joined his shoulder, and Jareth's half-scream, half moan in response shattered her desire like glass. Sarah's need exploded into a starburst of blinding white and gold, and in the next moment Jareth was shuddering above her, muscles tensed and spasming, arms wrapped tightly around her body as he emptied himself into her.

Sarah did not realize she had spoken, did not recognize her own voice pleading with him as she rode out the turbulent storm. But she must have spoken, and Jareth heard her. His head lay upon her breast, one hand twined in her hair and the other cradling the curve of her hip.

"Sweet torment," he promised her, voice rough with pain and sated with desire, "I will never leave you."

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_**Author's Notes:** Writing this chapter nearly killed me, but it's finished and I couldn't have done it without **Whiteraven**. Her incredibly helpful suggestions and advice were invaluable and I owe her a huge debt of thanks for taking time out of her busy schedule to edit it._

_**Akthomps**, you get your belated Christmas wish and then some. **Heist**, I hope this chapter makes you feel better. _

_ Comments/reviews welcome._


	25. Chapter 25: Fortune's Wheel

_**Author's Notes: **Someone asked me after the last chapter what had happened to Sir Didymus. You guys are sharp... not even a whole chapter of J/S distraction can make you drop the plot line for long, curse it. Well, those of you who wanted to know about him get their wish, although it may not be exactly what you expected. Next chapter, we're back to J/S almost exclusively.**  
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**Chapter Twenty-Five: Fortune's Wheel  
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"Whoa, Ambrosius! Whoa!"

Sir Didymus clapped a hand on his hat, which threatened to fly off his head as they pelted through the Labyrinth maze. The cracking explosion behind them startled his faithful steed, and Ambrosius had never run so fast in his life, not even when food was involved. With only the moon for light, they hurtled down dark passageways, hedges towering high above them all spiked and gnarled like the head of a mace.

"Now see here, Ambrosius, this is hardly the way to behave!"

Didymus tried in vain to curb his rambunctious mount, fearing that Ambrosius would tangle them both in thorn vine, but to no avail. They were getting further and further from the castle, but he felt sure that once Hoggle cooled down, his friend would see reason and relent. Sir Didymus just hoped he would survive to see it. Determined to put a stop to their undignified retreat, he pulled back on the reins with all his might, at the same time bellowing in Ambrosius' ear.

"I said WHOA, my good--"

It was a little too effective. Ambrosius skidded to a stop, and Sir Didymus went hurtling over his head right into the hedge. For a long while there was nothing but a gaping hole in the tangled greenery, and at the edge of it, the tip of what was once a fine, red feather. Ambrosius sniffed at it apologetically, then whined through his nose.

"...really a little too high strung for a proper mount..." an exasperated voice was heard to say from deep within the shrubbery, accompanied by frantic thrashing, "Quite extraordinary, the fixes..."

Ambrosius bowed his head in shame, then gingerly poked his nose into the hole in the hedge, avoiding the long thorns. He fished around for a few moments, then extracted his master, gripping the collar of Didymus' coat between his teeth.

"All right," allowed Sir Didymus, brushing off his jacket and picking leaves from his ears. "Apology accepted. See that it does not happen again."

Ambrosius deposited him on the ground, whuffling happily. Much to his surprise, Sir Didymus found himself without a scratch, although his hat was an unredeemable mess, the feather broken and a wickedly long thorn jabbed right through it. The little knight pried it off the hedge, looking at the jagged hole on either side of the hat.

"Verily, Ambrosius, that _was_ a close one."

While he was not the least bit shaken, Sir Didymus judged it a sensible thing to sit down and rest after the ordeal of their flight. He searched in his pocket and found the remains of a crumbled bit of goblin cheese, which he held out to Ambrosius. His hairy companion swallowed it whole and panted agreeably while the little knight reflected upon what had happened.

"I say, that wasn't an entirely courageous retreat," said Sir Didymus, deeply troubled. "I was outnumbered, to be sure, but that is no excuse."

Ambrosius was not the judgemental sort, and didn't display any regret for his own part in the escape. Seeing that there was no further handouts to be had, he scratched the ground with his front paws and settled in. Sir Didymus shook his head sorrowfully.

"And to raise a hand to a friend-- even in self-defense! I fear we have fallen on dark times, indeed. What my forefathers must think..."

He sat on a chunk of rock, resting his chin on one fist, his legs tucked up beneath him. There was a faraway look in his eyes and his whiskers drooped just a bit. The dog inched forward and licked Sir Didymus' hand.

"Nay, you forgive too easily," said the knight. "'Tis a question of honor, Ambrosius. I was charged to keep the king's property safe, but I may have besmirched mine own honor in doing so. Only His Majesty can clear my family's good name, I fear. When he returns, he will at least see I have kept safe the--"

Sir Didymus froze. He patted one waistcoat pocket, then the other, his tail quivering in alarm.

"Ambrosius," he cried, "It is gone!"

He searched the ground, kicking over rocks and pawing through puddles of water for it, but the pendant was nowhere to be found. If it had been lost on their perilous flight... But no, Sir Didymus would not entertain the thought. He scurried around the passage way, intent upon retracing their steps in the dark if need be, when he caught the slightest whiff of scent on the air...

Subtle but unmistakeable, he could smell the magic. It was nearby. Waving at Ambrosius to be quiet, Sir Didymus scented the air very with a cautious turning of his head, left and right. His nose led him to the hole in the hedge, and climbing up on Ambrosius' back, he peered through it.

On the other side of the hedge lay the pendant, gleaming softly in the moonlight. And between it and the little knight was several feet of thorn-vine. There was nothing for it, and Didymus refused to be daunted. Luck had always been his, and Lady Fortune would surely not desert him now. Over Ambrosius' whimpers of protest, Sir Didymus gathered himself and leapt headlong into the hedge.

It was a tight fit, and he had to claw his way through to the other side. He could hear the thorns catch raggedly on his waistcoat, the sound of seams tearing and Ambrosius barking behind him. It was no good, he could not turn back now. It was ever onward, or die trying. Didymus felt a searing pain in his chest but he ignored it, twisting and kicking until he was free. He was somewhere outside of the maze walls, lying upon a grassy knoll. The open fields rolled out before him all silver and green, and beyond that lay the white shores of the Merandanon. Strangely weary, he lay where he fell for quite some time, the king's pendant safe in his keeping. _Safe. The honor of my house unbroken..._

Sir Didymus may have slept briefly, he did not know. When he awoke, the ground was wet, but not with water. He reached down with an unsteady paw and found that the front of his doublet was soaked through, and warm. His search met with a curiously sharp-edged splinter, and he drew it out carefully. Gleaming black with blood in the moonlight was a thorn the length of his paw. As Didymus examined it in polite disbelief, he saw far in the distance a starburst of light. It shot high over the tops of the trees, shining white against the blue-black cathedral of the night sky and raining down glittering dust. Didymus wished he were close enough to lift his face to the heavens and watch them drift down on the wind, for it was the most beautiful sight he had ever seen.

"Ah," sighed the little knight, his tail drooping low. "Long live His Majesty."

The grass was soft as a feather bed, and he was so very tired. Sir Didymus lay his head down upon his folded arms. He must keep watch, he had a duty to uphold. But perhaps he would sleep... just for a little while.

Fortune's wheel had turned.

* * *

Dawn broke across the sky in rivers of gold and a breeze with the warmth of spring blew through the Silverwood, rippling the leaves in a whispering song. At first, Sarah did not remember where she was. The clearing looked quite different by day, a jade bower of branches arching high overhead with leaves drifting down. Thick moss carpeted the forest floor, overgrown with star-shaped flowers no bigger than her fingertip. As the wind touched them lightly and sent the tiny blooms nodding, the sweet scent of jasmine filled the air. It was like a dream, and nothing looked the same.

Colors looked more vibrant to her waking eye, and even the sunlight was so bright it illuminated each mote of dust until it glowed like a fiery star. She was alive, the darkness had gone. If this was a dream, she did not want to wake, but sleep was evading her grasp and slipping through her fingers like water. Sarah stretched, but found herself firmly held in place by a sleeping Goblin King.

Jareth lay sprawled half over her, one hand gripping her wrist as if he were determined not to lose her as he slept. With her free hand, Sarah brushed a stray strand of hair back from his face. He looked so vulnerable, so completely relaxed that she could barely recognize him. Curled on his side with his arm around her and his shoulders bare to the golden dawn, he was beautiful. Sarah held her breath, watching the play of shadows the sunlight through the leaves cast over his skin. _Could he really be mine?_ Jareth did not seem like a person who could belong to anyone, least of all her. But for a short while, she could pretend that he did.

Covering them was a velvet cloak Sarah had never seen before. Shifting against it, she became more aware of other sensations that made her blush. She felt sore, and the bite mark on her thigh was tender to the touch. Not wanting to wake Jareth, she eased out from under him slowly, pulling back the cloak to examine it. By daylight it was frightening, an angry circle of jagged punctures crusted with blood. Pale violet bruises were already faint on her skin's surface. They would grow darker with time. She went to touch it, but a hand descended upon her own, holding her fast.

"Don't."

Startled, Sarah looked up to find the Goblin King watching her calmly. She wondered how long he'd been awake, and reddened in confusion. The way he looked at her made Sarah feel as if he saw everything, knew everything. Then something occurred to her, and she examined her right forearm. It was smooth and untouched, as if no shimmering mark had ever been there. She glanced back up at the Goblin King. His eyes flicked over the now-unblemished spot but registered no surprise, only mild satisfaction.

"Good morning, Sarah."

Sarah pulled her hand free. "What have you done?"

Anger flickered behind Jareth's eyes for a brief moment. "You were nearly lost to me. I did what I had to do. Or do you regret losing him?"

"No, I--" Sarah rubbed her arm. She felt nothing, no pain, no yearning voice singing her to the river. The King of the Dead's mark was indeed gone. "Only... how did you do it?"

Jareth leaned back, the cloak slipping down to his waist. She could see the pale pink-white line of his own scar snaking up the side of his torso. He noticed her scrutiny but did not flinch, only returned her level gaze.

"Do you always ask questions when you already have the answers, Sarah?"

Sarah thought of the healing wound on her thigh in disbelief. _He cannot mean..._

"You asked to be saved. I always do as you ask."

Sarah looked at it again. She had a sudden flash of imagery, the bloody ring faded to a smooth, silvery-white mark tattooing her inner thigh. "There's going to be a scar."

"Yes," said Jareth, stretching like a cat in the sun, "There will be."

"You bastard." It was a half-hearted insult, one still dampened by the cold shock of her realization.

She forgot he could move like a cat when he wanted, and before Sarah could speak again, she was lying flat on her back with him looking down at her. Both of her wrists were firmly pinned to the either side of her, Jareth's weight resting easily upon them. The Goblin King's eyes were intent. For a moment she thought a tiny hint of worry lurked in the impossible blue of them. But he betrayed none in his reply, and Sarah thought she must surely be mistaken.

"The healing will hurt, and it will scar. But his hold upon you is gone, as I promised."

Sarah tried to to look away, but couldn't. "How can you be sure?"

His voice dropped a shade lower as he bent his head to her throat, speaking against her skin in a way that made her shiver uncontrollably.

"I've marked you, Sarah. For all time. He will not touch you again, for I will share you with no one."

"Branded like cattle." She threw his words mockingly back at him.

But the Goblin King only shook his head in amusement. He sat up a little, and for the first time she saw the wound on his shoulder, a neat little scarlet ring that had already begun to heal. Sarah touched it, suddenly humbled.

"Did I do that to you?"

He caught her hand and brought her wrist to his lips. "I'm disappointed you do not remember."

Sarah blushed again. She remembered all too well.

Jareth enjoyed her discomfort, hiding his laughter. In the early morning light, Sarah looked like a sylph of the wood. He picked a strand of wild jasmine and fashioned a wreath for her hair. His Sarah, wearing a crown of white stars. _My Queen._ He could not keep from touching her, dropping a kiss in the palm of her hand, smoothing his thumb over the delicate bones of her wrist.

Seeing his evident pleasure at her embarrassment, Sarah's chin went up. "Then I have marked you, too."

"So you have." said the Goblin King.

He slid a hand beneath the cloak, running it along the curve of her calf, skimming her thigh and coming to rest upon her hip, stroking teasingly upward. Sarah felt as if her bones were melting. As he leaned over her, the morning sun lit his profile in shining gold. She tried to ignore the distraction of him warm against her, the cloak slipping from between their bodies.

"Are you putting a glamour on me?"

Jareth hovered close. "Do you require one?"

"No." Something he did beneath the cloak caused her to squirm and gasp. "But you could. You have that power now."

The Goblin King did not pause from his explorations. "Yes."

"And you know why it's come back."

He bent his head close, and his breath tickled her neck. Jareth sunk his teeth into her shoulder, hard, but not hard enough to break the skin. She bit back a moan.

"Answer me."

"Yes. I know why."

"Jareth, be serious." Sarah wriggled from his grasp with some reluctance and raised herself up on one elbow, clutching the cloak to her breast. "Are you... all right? Will everything be okay?"

The Goblin King gazed at her with fond indulgence and some exasperation. "More questions?"

"I have to know. It wasn't there all along, or you wouldn't have... Why did the magic come back to you?"

"Ah, Sarah." Jareth stretched again, rumpling his hair with both hands. "The king and the kingdom are one."

Sarah gave him a sharp, measuring look. "I've heard that before."

"But you did not know what it meant. Neither did I."

"You speak in riddles."

"Life is an enigma, spoken in the language of riddles. Are you finished with your questions, my Sarah?" He gave the cloak a playful tug.

"No." Sarah refused to be distracted. "Can you make everything the way it was? Heal the Labyrinth?"

Now it was his turn to mock her. With his head slightly tilted to one side, he gave her a wolfish smile.

"It will be... a piece of cake."

* * *

It took them until dawn to rig up a rope bridge that swayed and bounced most alarmingly when Hoggle crossed it, eyes shut tight to the abyss that yawned below him. The more nimble goblins scampered across hand over hand, many of them still talking excitedly about the events of the night before. By their account, Didymus was seven feet tall and his staff shot out bolts of lightning as he smote the ground and cracked the Labyrinth in two before vanishing in a puff of smoke.

"Goblins." muttered Hoggle in keen disgust.

When he reached the other side, he wiped his sweaty palms on his handkerchief and cleared his throat.

"All right, you lot," he began, "You know what you're looking for. Find him and be quick about it!"

The sunrise was beautiful, more beautiful than Hoggle had seen in many a fortnight. Rose-gold light spilled across the horizon and the last of the snow was melting. It was spring come again, and the dwarf began to think that perhaps Sir Didymus was not so foolish to hope after all. Then he saw something that lifted his heart.

On a span of wall half-fallen into the chasm was a clinging bit of thorn vine. The greedy tendrils had worked their way into the crumbling mortar, prying the rocks apart slowly. They didn't look the same as they had before. Hoggle bent to examine it with a gardener's keen eye. _Yes,_ he thought in reluctant wonder, _I do believe...  
_

Its scarlet blossoms had withered to dry little husks and blown away, the leaves yellowed and brittle. The thorn-vine had survived the drought, survived the storms and the ice. Now it was dying. Hoggle was a practical sort of dwarf, and he did not long speculate as to why. Perhaps Sarah had saved the Goblin King after all. Perhaps the thorn-vine, like many things, had a time and place to meet its inevitable end. Hoggle was a great believer in the inevitable. If Didymus had been there, no doubt the little knight would have had many a romantic explanation, as high-flown and flowery as his silly speeches full of thees and thous. But he was not there.

The dwarf plucked up a bit of the vine and it came away easily in his grasp, letting go of the stone as if the roots too, had withered away. He stood there for a long time looking at the harmless bit of dried-up weed in his hand. At last, he crumbled it between his fingers and let the dust fall where the wind chose to take it.

"Didymus," he said softly, "I was wrong. Please come back."

* * *

Sarah crossed her arms. "I will not wear _that_."

Scowling, the Goblin King tossed aside the offending article of clothing, a frothy pale pink gown with ribbons and lace at the bodice.

"That is the third one you have rejected. As I recall, such frippery was quite the subject of your dreams, Sarah."

"When I was fifteen," she countered, "I'm not a child anymore."

Jareth gave her a sidelong glance. "Indeed, you are not."

Furious at having provided him yet another opportunity to insinuate, Sarah wrapped herself tighter in Jareth's cloak and sat stubbornly on a fallen log. The Goblin King himself was again immaculately clothed in blue and white, the brocade of his vest a shimmering pattern of peacock feathers.

"But day grows late and it is time we should return to the city. And," he continued, with a smile, "I will need my cloak back."

Sarah seized its folds in panic. "You wouldn't."

"I wouldn't dream of it. But you cannot make your grand entrance wearing only my cloak. As enchanting as that thought is..."

"All right." Sarah gritted her teeth. "Just make something. Anything. It's not important as long as it doesn't have yards of lace and it covers everything."

The Goblin King kept a perfectly straight face. A slight gesture of his hands and he held a gown of cream colored silk, one with softly draping sleeves and a gathered waist. Sarah smoothed the material between her fingers, and she had never felt anything so luxurious in all her life. Jareth rubbed a fold of it across her cheek, his eyes curiously fixed upon her.

"Put it on." he said.

The dress felt as if it had been made for her, and it recalled to her mind a certain wardrobe in a castle room full of bright gowns that had never been worn... She swallowed past the tears that rose unexpectedly and put on the slippers Jareth held out to her. It gave her enough courage to ask the question she'd saved until last, the one she feared to have answered.

"Jareth."

She watched him brush Rumor's coat, speaking softly into the mare's ear. The Goblin King helped Sarah up into the saddle and mounted behind her. Sarah leaned back into him, comforted by the feel of his solid presence. He was her stronghold and her support. He would never leave her.

Jareth breathed in the scent of her hair, the scent of wildflowers and rain. Again he allowed himself to run his fingers through it, dreaming of another time and place where those black tresses might be spread over a white silk pillow under a dome of stars. He stroked her throat with his bare hands, placing the lightest of kisses on the side of her neck.

Sarah closed her eyes, her thoughts full of long nights and a tower room with a crystal window to the heavens.

_Falling..._

She tried to begin again. "When we return. What will happen... to us?"

Jareth's arms tightened around her, and she half-turned in the saddle, wanting to see his face. He held her fast, his embrace suddenly crushing. She could feel his heartbeat quicken, and it frightened her.

"Jareth?"

When his reply came at last, it was with a studied ease that did not fool her.

"What will be, will be."

* * *

Hoggle rubbed his aching knees and surveyed his work. The floor of the throne room was now cleaner than it had ever been, and it had only taken a dozen buckets of water, three cakes of soap and a few hours' dwarf labor. The goblins could have done it in faster time, he admitted. But they would've left muddy footprints all over and probably eaten the soap, as well.

"If you want something done right, you've got to do it yourself." grumbled Hoggle, tossing his scrub brush neatly into the bucket.

What he would not admit to himself was that it was all busy work to cover his growing worry when Sir Didymus had not been found. The little knight had his resources, to be sure, but he could not have gone far without transportation. An hour after dawn, Ambrosius slunk home with his tail between his legs and would not leave off moping around the courtyard. Curled up in a shady corner by the gate, his ears lifted every time someone passed by, but he quickly laid down again when his master did not appear. The goblins tempted him with half a chicken carcass, but the dog would not be budged, his ears drooping in disappointment.

Hoggle thought he knew just how Ambrosius felt.

A cough from the doorway interrupted his thoughts. A goblin with a tattered guard's uniform stood there, shuffling his feet.

"Sir," said the goblin hesitantly, "We've found him. The commander, I mean."

"Commander?" Hoggle paused for a moment in genuine puzzlement. "What-- Oh. Of course. Where is he?"

But the goblin only snivelled incoherently and would not say another word. Hoggle ran out into the courtyard just as the search party returned through the castle gates. Four goblins with bowed heads carried a small stretcher, and on it was something that looked like a bundle of dirty rags. Here and there was a shred of bright blue velvet, the rest of it a deep color of rust. It lay very still and did not move.

The dwarf stared at it, uncomprehending. Then Ambrosius stuck a cold nose into his hand, whining low in his throat.

"Oh, no," said Hoggle, "Not..."

Sir Didymus had come home.

* * *

_Comments/reviews welcome. _


	26. Chapter 26: The Betrayal

_**Author's Note: **As some of you might know, I've been driving myself pretty hard to finish this story because I'll be leaving shortly and won't be back for quite some weeks. That's why this update has come a little ahead of the weekly schedule, and the next one will, too. I hope not to have sacrificed quality for speed, but things are quickly coming to a head here and we'll be wrapping things up before too long-- one more chapter after this one, it looks like.  
_

**

* * *

**

**Chapter Twenty-Six: The Betrayal  
**

There would never be another journey like it. Rumor flew along the path by the river, her hooves barely skimming the ground, and within an hour they'd left the shade of the Silverwood behind. The sun shone hot on their backs as they forded the Merandanon through the valley of firethorn, kicking up silver sheets of water with their passing. There was no time to speak, and Sarah simply hung on, safe in the knowledge that she would not be allowed to fall. They rode without the need for words, bent low over the mare's neck as the wind swept past.

_It's him,_ thought Sarah, feeling foolish for not realizing it sooner. Rumor was fast, but not that fast. S_everal days' journey in a single afternoon... _It made her suddenly apprehensive. She'd grown so used to the Goblin King as helpless as any mortal than it seemed strange to her now to see him as he was. Sarah had nearly forgotten. Jareth was back to his old self in all ways, the arrogant, fey creature she remembered from five years before. As each mile fell away behind them, she could feel him growing more confident, more determined. _Someone so powerful could crush you like an insect without even realizing it. _

But even as her fears multiplied, Jareth's arm slipped around her waist as if in reminder. _I am here,_ the gesture said. _I will always be here. _Love had the power to change the inevitable, alter the inalterable. Sarah had to believe that with everything she had. A tear escaped her eye, but it quickly dried in the wind and she did not think Jareth noticed. Sarah covered his hand with her own, interlacing her fingers tight with his as if she could hold on to him by sheer force.

_And I will,_ she thought fiercely. _I won't ever let go._

* * *

"He's lost a great deal of blood."

Hoggle hated sick rooms. Water bubbled in a kettle over the fire, but it was not for tea. Instead of the scent of food was the pungent odor of yarrow and willow bark, overlaid with the coppery smell of blood. Sir Didymus lay on a cot wrapped in blankets, a poultice of herbs and clean padding bound over his chest. He had neither moved nor spoken since the search party brought him back, and his breathing was so slight that Hoggle feared each one would be the last.

The physician was called immediately, an elderly goblin with wisps of white hair and a worn leather bag nearly as large as he was. He'd been all business, cutting off the little knight's ruined clothing with a pair of shears and sponging the blood off his matted fur with brisk precision. Clucking disapprovingly at the wound, the healer bandaged it up while Hoggle looked anxiously on. One of the search party had even brought back the thorn, carefully wrapped in a bit of burlap. It lay on the windowsill, and the dwarf could not look at it without shuddering. _How many hours,_ he wondered grimly, _Lying there alone and forgotten in the dark..._

"He lives." said the physician abruptly, wiping his hands on a clean rag. "For now."

"Isn't there anything else you can do?"

"There's healing and there's miracles, lad. I can only do one and not t'other."

Hoggle sat limply on a chair by the cot. "It would take a miracle? It's just that he's always been very... lucky."

"Your friend _is_ lucky to have survived this long," said the healer. "But he's not indestructible."

The dwarf pulled out his handkerchief and dabbed at a sudden bit of moisture in his eye. "I always thought he was."

Packing up his workbag, the physician paused and peered kindly over his wire-rimmed spectacles. He snapped the bag shut and seemed to make a decision then and there.

"I do not mean to rob you of all hope." The healer leaned toward the dwarf, his eyes bright. "They say," he began confidentially, "That _he_ has been seen."

Hoggle looked up sharply. "Goblins say a lot of things."

"So we do." The physician gave an amused nod. "But we have our ways of knowing, and sometimes rumor is not so far from truth."

"I'll grant you that." said Hoggle. "_He_ is capable of many things and I've always said you can't count him out no matter how beaten he seems."

He glanced at Sir Didymus' still form and it made him angry.

"But you can't rely on him to do what's right, either. Jareth will do what he wants and the rest of us be damned."

The physician was taken aback, his spectacles slid down his nose as he gaped at the dwarf in shock. There was a scuffle and a loud commotion out in the courtyard, and he cleared his throat to speak over it. "Well now, I--"

But Hoggle was just getting warmed up. "Oh, Didymus always defended him too, and look where it got him! He's paid for his loyalty, and he'll get nothing in return, you can bet the turnip patch on it."

The physician coughed nervously and seemed anxious to be away, but the dwarf stood between him and the door, meaning to have his full say.

"And I'll tell you one thing, _he_ may be king of this land, but he's never done a single thing that wasn't out of his own bloated self-interest, and you can't count on that to change no matter what happens."

"Oh, I wouldn't--" squeaked the hapless healer.

But Hoggle barreled on. "I'm only saying what everyone is thinking. I'm afraid too, but there are some things that cannot be borne, and I'm putting my foot down now. So there'll be no more rumors or whisperings among you lot about this, do you hear me? Even if he did return, Jareth would only--"

A silky voice from behind Hoggle interrupted. "Jareth would only... what?"

Hoggle froze. He turned around and sure enough, the Goblin King stood in the doorway, leaning against its frame and looking down at him with narrowed eyes.

"Do go on." he prompted with a razor-edged smile.

"I..."

Hoggle assessed his escape routes: up the chimney, or through the small window above the workbench. Neither one was promising, and he was fairly certain Jareth would blast him to cinders if he so much as twitched in either direction. When Sarah appeared behind the Goblin King, he heaved a sigh of relief.

"Hoggle!" She pushed through the doorway and rushed to hug him. "I thought I'd never see you again."

Sarah looked different. Older somehow, with all her fear and exhaustion burned away so the light shone through. She'd always been pretty, but now she was something more, and in that simple gown of white silk, she looked like a queen. Hoggle did not fail to note the way Jareth's eyes followed her as she crossed the room, tracking her every movement like a hunter. _So that's how things are,_ he thought in uneasy wonder. _Then Didymus was right about that, too._

"Me?" Hoggle patted her on the back and blew his nose on his ratty handkerchief. "Nothing could ever happen to me. It's _you_ I was worried about. You're back now, and that's all that matters. But oh, Sarah... A lot happened while you were away. Most of it bad, and I don't know how to tell you..."

Sarah sobered and perched on the low stool he offered. "It's okay, Hoggle, I know about Ludo. I know... we've lost him."

"That's not all you've lost."

Nearly forgotten, the Goblin King now stood over the cot. His face did not betray his emotions, but his words fell like chips of ice.

"Sir Didymus!"

She rose so quickly the stool overturned. Jareth caught her and held her hand tight, whispering into her ear. Sarah shook her head, tears spilling down her face. She touched the heavy bandage on the little knight's chest, heard the gentle rasp of his breathing.

"You have some explaining to do." said the Goblin King curtly. "Talk."

The dwarf joined them at the little knight's bedside, head bowed. "We had an argument."

He explained about the chasm, the search party, and finding Didymus lying outside the Labyrinth walls, a bloody thorn clutched in his paw. Sarah listened, her face white. Jareth stood behind, his arms braced around her for support. When the sad tale was done, she knelt to hug the dwarf.

"Oh, Hoggle. It wasn't your fault."

"Maybe, maybe not." said Hoggle between sniffs. "Can't help but feel responsible, especially when he's like this."

His shoulders began to shake a little, and he turned away. Sarah gave his arm a reassuring squeeze and looked again at Sir Didymus lying on the cot. He looked so peaceful, as if he were merely sleeping. _I can't lose him, too,_ Sarah thought. _Not after Ludo. There has to be a way... _A picture flashed through her mind, an image of dark and swirling water. She pulled the Goblin King outside, where the warm afternoon sun did little to take away the cold she felt.

His mouth was set in a thin line. "Sarah, do not ask."

"Please." Sarah looked up at him. "Isn't there something you can do? You saved me."

The Goblin King closed his eyes. "That is not the same at all."

"But it's not so very different," she insisted, refusing to let him pull away. "I've seen you do... incredible things. Couldn't you bring him back?"

"_I _am not the one with the power of life and death," said Jareth angrily, "If that's what you wanted, you've made a poor choice in me."

Sarah paled. "That's not what I wanted."

"Then you already have your answer." Jareth shook himself free and walked away. "Do not think I am happy about this, Sarah. I've known Didymus far longer than you have, his loss to me is greater than you will ever know."

Sarah refused to give up, matching his strides with difficulty.

"Then do something. Don't just give up on him. You know he would've never given up on you, no matter what happened."

"There are limits to what I can do, and it's time you learned that. I have a kingdom in ruin, and he is one life among many. You cannot ask me to sacrifice all for him, and he would not ask it for himself."

"He's not asking. I am." Sarah dragged him to a standstill by grabbing his arm and refusing to let go. She forced Jareth to face her, and when she looked up at him his eyes were full of pain and confusion.

"Please, Jareth."

"Sarah..."

She shook her head, refusing to listen. "I'll do whatever it takes to save him."

"You don't know what you're risking."

"Didymus never knew what he was risking either, but that never stopped him."

They'd come to a weathered door set deep into the castle wall, one that looked like it had not been opened for a long time. Gossamer cobwebs clung to the shadowed corners of the arch above it, and the surface was smooth of any keyhole or handle. It simply stood there as immovable as time, and Jareth leaned against it wearily.

"There's nothing you can do."

"Not me, perhaps." She dropped her gaze. "Not directly."

Jareth's reply was wary. "We have no time for games, Sarah. This is no trivial matter."

"I'm not playing games." Sarah stepped back and regarded him with a calm she did not feel. "You said it yourself-- we neither of us have the power of life and death."

The realization crept over Jareth like a sudden chill. "No." he said flatly. "Do not even think it."

"But--"

Fury kindled in his eyes and he seized her by the shoulders. "You could call upon him and he would come. What bargain would you strike with the King of the Dead, Sarah? What do you think he wants?"

"You wouldn't let him have me." Sarah managed to gasp. His grip would leave a ring of bruises around each arm.

"I swore I'd never let him touch you again. If he were to come here, I would kill him. Is that what you want?"

Uncertainty made her voice quiver. "You can't kill him."

Jareth's expression grew even more grim. "No. But I'd have to try. Now do you understand?" He forced himself to release her. "Promise me you'll never say his name again, Sarah. I do not ask this lightly, but you cannot call upon him no matter how great your need. Not ever."

Nodding through her tears, Sarah sank to the ground, rubbing her aching shoulders. She thought of a dark-haired youth and a kiss like winter, and she shuddered.

"I'm sorry. I do realize... how dangerous that would be. It was a stupid idea."

"Not so stupid." said Jareth with bitter regret. "He would answer any summons you made, and he would have no choice. But neither would you. Such is the nature of bargains with the Shadow King."

He crouched down beside her and held her for a while, drying her tears. "Didymus is not dead. He is not beyond redemption."

Hope. "Then you will do something?"

Jareth sighed. "I always do as you ask."

He pulled her to her feet and the two of them faced the weathered door. Placing a palm upon it, Jareth gave a small push and it swung open on silent hinges.

"Come," he said to her, taking her hand, "There is much to be done."

* * *

It was just as she remembered it. They stood in the base of a massive stone tower, and spiraling up the walls was a dizzying maze of stairways that led nowhere, with doorways that opened to nothing. The last time she was here, Toby was crawling forever out of reach and a black-and-crimson clad Goblin King taunted her powerlessness. Sarah shivered involuntarily and rubbed her arms. Her reaction did not escape Jareth's notice. He seemed uneasy as if he, too, were troubled by old memories.

"We must go up." was all he said.

High up among the roof-beams, Sarah saw dusty shafts of sunlight and the occasional bird winging from one shadowed perch to the next. It looked like a building long abandoned, as if someone had locked the entrance and simply left everything the way it was. She followed Jareth as he led the way through the maze, wondering if that was what he'd done.

Their footsteps echoed on the stone, and chaos ordered itself for him. It was never anything Sarah could see happening, but like magic, warped stairways straightened in his path, doors always led where he wanted them to lead. They passed by many small rooms, filled with books and curious objects. Sarah wanted to stop and ask questions about the things she saw, but there was no time and the Goblin King did not invite inquiry. Tension showed in the line of his back and the precision of each movement with no energy wasted, as if he was bracing himself for something. Before she knew it, they'd reached the top of the tower.

They entered an austere bed chamber with a fire already burning in the hearth. A wine-colored carpet plush underfoot kept out the chill of the stone floor. On one side of the room was a small writing desk and chair, and on the other, a bed hung with draperies of soft ivory and cream. Opposite the fireplace was a large arched window. Sarah went to it and peered out.

"You can see the entire Labyrinth from here." she said in wonder.

The Goblin King stood quietly to one side. He'd said little during the climb, his pace brisk with a confidence he did not truly own. Jareth had not changed his mind about one thing. What he felt for this girl left him open and vulnerable. He would only be as strong as her weakest point and that thought pierced him through with a hot rush of fear. _If she had called upon him..._ But she had not.

The Goblin King realized two things. one a possibility, the other, an inevitability. Both made him feel cold and sick. He watched Sarah as she sat on the ledge, one hand braced on the window's arch. The white of her sleeve fluttered in the wind and the light shone through it. Jareth was trapped by her beauty, the fragility of this creature who could fall and shatter them both into a thousand pieces.

_Falling..._

She was leaning out too far, he should tell her to take care. But the Goblin King remained silent. His eyes were dark and shuttered once more and his gaze upon her had grown calculating.

Sarah did not see it, she was too busy looking over the Labyrinth. From here she could see it all, the sprawl of the goblin city, hedges and walls stretching on in jagged twists and turns, and the gaping chasm that split it in two. Goblins swarmed over the rope bridge and she almost laughed to see their crazed acrobatics. But she looked again and the laughter died in Sarah's throat.

From their vantage point, she could also see the damage: tumbledown walls, the trash and debris left behind by the flood-- and over it all, dead thorn-vine creeping across the landscape in a yellow-brown haze. It was a pale ruin of the beautiful place she'd known-- just as she'd seen in her dreams. Instinct told her that if it appeared tragic to her, the sight of it must hurt Jareth all the more, and she turned to him, wanting to offer comfort.

Something in his expression changed quickly, as if someone had shut a door. The Goblin King smiled easily and came to sit beside her at the window.

"A distressing sight, to be sure. But all will be put to rights." he said, tilting his head in her direction, "If you will help me, Sarah."

Her reply was without hesitation, and it wrenched him to hear her agree so readily. "Of course."

But Jareth forced himself to smile again, to take her by the hand and brush the back of it with his lips, as elegant as any courtier. Sarah was no fool, this strange formality was something that did not fit. Her lovely eyes were wary, and seeing it left a bitter taste in the Goblin King's mouth. She could sense the lie in him, just as he could sense the confusion in her. He must move quickly before all was discovered.

_It matters little,_ thought Jareth bleakly. _She will know the truth soon enough._

_

* * *

_

They stood together without speaking at the window. Outside, the sun sank lower in the sky, bathing the room in burnished golds and reds. The cooling air smelled of woodsmoke, and the only sound was the crackle of the fire. Sarah studied the profile of this man she loved, the way the shadows fell beneath his cheekbones, the proud set of his chin and firm line of his mouth. It had taken her a long time to realize she loved him, and now Sarah wondered how she had ever thought she couldn't. Jareth's gaze was fixed somewhere on the distant horizon, and she had never seen him more remote.

All the previous night's passion seemed burned away to cold ash, and Sarah felt its keen loss. She wanted more than anything to return to that place in time where they were the only two people in the world and nothing else mattered. _Come back to me,_ she thought, watching his eyes follow the path of the dying sun. _Don't go where I can't follow._ But the Goblin King was lost, his mind wandering far and wide from the room where they stood. Sarah wondered if she would ever know him completely, or if his thoughts would always be as unfathomable as they were now.

He turned to her at last, but for one frightening moment it was as if he did not know who she was. Then the moment passed and he took her hand.

"Are you ready, love?"

She touched his arm. "Whatever you need from me, I will give."

"You don't know what I am asking."

"It doesn't matter." Sarah looked into those beautifully mismatched eyes. "We'll do whatever needs to be done together."

While he did not pull away, her reassurances did not soften him. Jareth seemed uncertain, with a strange look of hunger that unsettled her. But he only stroked her hair the way he had done that morning, winding a lock of it around his finger.

"No matter what happens," he said quietly, "I swear to you my feelings will never change. You will remember that, won't you?"

Sarah leaned on his shoulder, her head tucked beneath his chin. "Why would I forget?"

The Goblin King chuckled, but without mirth. "Come away from the window, Sarah. It grows cold."

Sarah let him lead her closer to the fire, but his joyless laughter had awoken her old doubts. There was something he wasn't telling her, something he kept hidden. She stopped him as he moved away, searching his face for any clue to his thoughts. The flames flickered across his sharp features, casting his eyes into shadow. From those dark depths they gleamed with a secretive light, and she could no more see what was in them than she could see through polished stone.

"Don't _you _forget," she said, touching his face gently. "I love you."

Jareth closed his eyes, that dark gleam gone. Those words would never fail to move him, never fail to make him constrict inside with joy and agony, a matchless pain he relished. His reply was vested with all that he could not say and hoped she would understand, tender with love, rough with need and wanting.

"I will never forget."

He drew her to him and kissed her, one hand cradling her head and the other resting easily at her waist. The material of her dress was thin beneath his fingers, and Jareth had a fierce desire to see all of her by firelight, to watch the warm hues of oranges and yellows play across her white skin. There, between the heat of the hearth and the open window, he could taste her sweetness, and it called to him. Sarah's arms stole up around his neck with the faint whisper of silk that accompanied her every movement. It awoke in him the desire to seize handfuls of it, to tug it upwards until it slid over her thighs, then higher... The Goblin King moved nearer, closing the space between their bodies. _Claim her. Now. _As if she heard him, Sarah shivered in response, inviting his touch. The hand at her waist moved further down, gathering the folds of her gown. She would tremble beneath him, cry out his name...

_No. _Jareth ended the kiss with reluctance, gently untangling himself from her embrace. He let the silken folds fall and caressed her cheek in apology.

"We must begin." He placed the lone chair in the room before the hearth and gestured for Sarah to sit.

"You have something I need," he began softly, kneeling before her. "I can heal this land, make things the way they were. Everything. But you are the gateway, Sarah. I will need to go through you. Will you allow me to do this?"

Sarah nodded, not trusting herself to speak. The Goblin King brushed his lips briefly against hers.

"Look into the fire, Sarah. It will not hurt you. Look into the fire and open yourself to me..."

His voice dropped to a soothing murmur like the wind through the trees, and Sarah looked deep into the flames. They leapt like dancers in their vault of stone, the half-burned logs touched with molten orange-red that glowed as the breeze from the window fed it.

She felt Jareth take her hand and rub it against his cheek. With his voice and the heat of the fire, her limbs felt very heavy, as if she were sinking into the earth. Sarah's eyes closed and everything drifted away from her on the tide...

* * *

It began with a questing thought, one that stole its way into her mind before she even realized it. It stretched and grew like a tendril of morning glory vine, searching this way and that as if seeking the light. The intrusion should have angered her, but it did not. Sarah continued to drift on this river of time that whirled her along like a fallen leaf. From far away, she could hear a familiar voice, soft and coaxing.

_Tell us, Sarah mine. Show us the way._

Sarah shook her head, not understanding. _I don't know what you want._

_Ah, but you do. The gate was destroyed, but the path remains. Lead us there, Sarah. Lead us to him._

Images flickered through her head of a pool in the forest, something rising up out of the water, sleek and wet. The cool contact of bare skin, palm to palm. Will-o'-the-wisps that hung like stars on the mist, and the black, rolling river beckoning her on. On the other side of the chasm, a man all in white.

_No._ Sarah shuddered, curling into a ball. _I am not to say his name. I am not to summon him again._

_You won't,_ soothed the voice. _You need not. But he is there, he waits for you whether you call him or not. Only show us the path..._

The tendril of thought probed deeper, sorting through her thoughts and memories like someone riffling the pages of a book, and she was too weak to resist. Sarah struggled briefly and was still. Something held her fast, a smothering grip that would not let her move or push away. It was nowhere and everywhere at once, seeking... hunting. And then it found something, the slimmest thread shining like spider's silk adrift in the wind.

_Ah, _said the voice in grim satisfaction.

That which was inside her gathered itself with a snarl, growing stronger. It became an invading force that barreled through Sarah's mind like an army through a plundered gate, seizing that luminous strand and following back, racing to its source. On the other end of that thread, something dashed itself about and howled like a mad thing, but it could not move, it was tethered fast.

It cried out to her in anguished recognition. It knew her name. _Beloved... why do you do this to me? _

Sarah could see nothing, but she could feel it all. Somewhere far away, a pale youth with hair like night writhed and wept, curled on a slab of stone beneath a flowering tree. He was caught like a wolf in a trap, clawing at the burning of his flesh as the force breached his meager defenses, assaulting him from every angle. He called out her name as if it would be his salvation.

_Sarah!_

_No,_ she said, her horror choking her. _Don't do this._

But she was only the conduit, she could not stop it. The power that flowed through Sarah encircled him, tangled him and tightened until his sobbing was incoherent in its grief.

_Love you... Do anything you say... Only--_

He broke off and screamed. The force's flow had reversed. It was draining him, ebbing away at his strength and milking his frailty, and Sarah felt each glistening drop as it slid down the thread like dew. It was the purest distillation of magic and misery, bitter as gall and burning on the tongue. But oh, what it could do... Something that was in her drank it in and gloried in the power.

Sarah doubled over with the pain of it, sorrow racking her limbs until they ached with pity. _Don't. Please don't._

_You will take everything from me,_ the youth whispered, pressing a bloody forehead to the stone.

_No._ _ Not everything._

Sarah felt its hold relax, felt it let go of the thread that bound them to the King of the Dead and set it adrift again in the void, like a ship loosed from its moorings. It had taken much from him, but it had not taken all.

In the end, he was left with enough to live, enough to cling to his bed of stone as the ivory petals rained down on his body.

_Sarah, _he murmured, fingers opening and closing on empty air. _ I will always..._

_

* * *

_

_Comments/reviews welcome. _


	27. Chapter 27: The End of All Things

_**Author's Notes: **There was a bit of confusion about what was going on in the last chapter, particularly at the end. I hate to do this to you, but there isn't going to be a big recap/explanation here. Everything's in that chapter or this one, and I think if you look carefully, you'll find everything you need to know.  
_

**

* * *

**

**Chaper Twenty-Seven: The End of All Things**

With a swelling thunder like a storm over the sea, she was torn away, whirled and thrust back into the mortal shell of her body that now felt like a cage of flesh and bone. Sarah thought the weight of it would crush her, and when she opened her eyes her fingers were numb from gripping the sides of her chair. Hours had passed, and it was night. The fire burned low until it was little more than glowing coals and ash, and outside the darkness was hushed and still. Jareth stood before the hearth, arm braced upon the mantle and his head resting upon it.

When Sarah opened her mouth, her voice was rusty, as if she had not spoken in a long time.

"What... have you done?"

The Goblin King straightened, and when he turned to her his eyes were harder than she'd ever seen. "I told you, Sarah. I did what I had to do."

She tried to stand but could not, her legs would not hold her. She didn't need Jareth to tell her what had changed, because Sarah could feel it. _There is something in the air... _She could feel it in the way the stones sang beneath her feet, and she knew the king's tower with its vaulted window to the heavens stood once more. She knew that thorn-vine no longer clung to every stone and tree in a veil of death and decay, and that the jagged gorge dividing the Labyrinth in two now flowed with the waters of the Merandanon, silver and serene in the moonlight. There was a great price to be paid for this healing, and she knew who had paid it.

All this, Sarah knew without having to be told, and it left her breathless and broken. There was one more thing that she had to make certain.

"Didymus?"

"He lives." Jareth walked to the window, letting the cool air wash over him. "And he will live, because of what we have done here tonight. The power of life and death, you said. Neither of us have it."

She followed his retreat with accusing eyes. Sarah felt it all-- the anguish, the loneliness, that hollowed-out, empty feeling in the pit of her stomach.

"He didn't deserve that. As much as you hate him, he didn't deserve it." Sarah wasn't talking about the little knight any more, and the Goblin King did not have to ask who she meant.

Jareth did not turn from the window. "Exactly what he did or did not deserve is debatable, my dear, but I do not think I'm obliged to debate it with you. He had what we needed."

She felt sick. "So you took it from him. And it wasn't enough to steal what he had, you... hurt him."

"I inflicted no more pain than what he bestowed upon me, and I took nothing more than what I was owed. You are not the only one to bargain with the Shadow King." Jareth paused. "Others would have been less merciful in my place."

Sarah's anger and bitterness gave her strength. Not what she had before, but enough to rise unsteadily to her feet, clutching the mantle for support. "You _used_ me."

"You were willing enough."

"Never. I never would have said yes if I'd known it would cause him pain like that."

"You said you would give anything."

Sarah bit her lip. "He wasn't mine to give."

Jareth rounded upon her in spite. "Ah, but he was, Sarah. He is a mad creature, but he knows he loves you. You own him as surely as anyone can own another-- I could not have done this otherwise. He had not the power or presence of mind to hide from me, you consume his every thought."

His eyes were cruel, his tone mocking. "So you see, we are both are under your spell."

"Is that so?"

Sarah forced herself to face him, to hold herself upright. She wasn't sure she could bear to touch him, but she forced herself to do that too, to wind her fingers possessively through his hair. She hoped it hurt him, and she matched her voice to his, icy and unfeeling.

"Are you also mine, then? To use and dispose of as I please?"

Rage and resentment simmered in the Goblin King's eyes. "Isn't that what you wanted from the very beginning?"

Sarah did not answer, she only pulled him down to her in an unrelenting kiss, wanting to bruise his lips with wanting the way he'd done with hers. She clung stubbornly even though he did not return her embrace, her mouth working down the beautiful line of his jaw, over the taut cords in his neck to his throat where the pulse beat so wildly she knew his coldness was a lie.

Somewhere along the way, her own anger changed to something else just as demanding, and Sarah pulled at the hem of his shirt, sliding her hands beneath it. His skin was hotter than she'd ever felt it, the muscle of him hard and unyielding against her touch. She skimmed lightly over his chest, reaching around to rake her nails down his back.

"Beloved," she whispered in his ear. "I mean to claim what is mine."

As if in response, the healing mark on her own thigh flared and she could feel the Goblin King's fury, the urge both to hurl her across the room and to drag her to the floor beneath him. His resistance weakened with her every touch, and she knew it. _Isn't this what you wanted from the very beginning? _Pulling the collar of his shirt aside, she bit down on his shoulder, not inches from the mark she'd given him. Salt blossomed on her tongue, and Jareth growled, his hands closing upon her waist.

They did not make it to the bed. Ivory silk pooled on the crimson floor and Jareth lay beneath her, bare to the waist with his chest bearing the faint lines of her nails from the night before. She knelt over him, the dark waves of her hair washing like satin over his skin. His eyes struggled not to reveal... fear? Anticipation?

_Sweet torment..._

She licked from the flat of his belly up to his chest in one long sweep, relishing the taste and heat of him and the way Jareth shuddered beneath her. Tracing down the sensitive line of his scar, Sarah teased him with lips and tongue, watching how his head fell back, his eyes closed. His mouth parted in sensual response, though he held his body stiff and unwilling. Smoothing her palms over him, she could feel each muscle tensed in her wake but she ignored it, rolling down the waist of his breeches and sliding them over his hips as he twisted free. She only hesitated for a moment.

"Sarah!" The Goblin King half-rose off the floor, gasping, but she pushed him back with a firm hand and did not stop what she was doing.

Each movement was deliberate and unhurried. When his entire body tightened and his breath came raggedly, she did not relent. When he reached for her, she evaded his grasp and only increased the pressure of her weight on his lower limbs, pinning him to the ground. Jareth groaned helplessly at the exquisite torture of her mouth upon him, warm and wet. Each movement upon him forced another faint cry from his lips that he could not stifle. He did not trust himself to look and barely trusted himself to think about her cool hands on his hips, the soft material of her dress slick against his thighs. Another moment and he would lose control entirely.

"Enough." He said, voice hoarse.

She did not stop. Gods, she did not stop, and he didn't know if he had the strength to make her. Sarah did something that strangled the breath from his throat, and he ached with wanting her until he could bear it no longer.

"No more." The words were halfway between a whisper and a groan. "Please."

Gathering his will, he rolled from beneath her, hauling her up to him to seek her mouth and tugging the loose neck of her gown down to bare her shoulders. Sarah tasted like honeyed wine, the heat of the banked fire bringing out a sheen of sweat on her breasts and throat that he lapped up hungrily. This time he used his teeth gently, enough for her to shiver at the implicit reminder before turning his attentions downward. The pale rose of her nipples tightened at the wet circle of his tongue and the cup of his palms, rough on her delicate skin.

Her sighs grew more urgent, the hands on his back and shoulders more demanding. Slipping between the legs that parted eagerly for him, his hands slid up the creamy silk of her thighs, pushing the folds of her skirt higher to bunch awkwardly around her waist. Jareth uttered a fervent curse, wanting it out of the way but too impatient to undress her. He wanted to see her by firelight... But she was more than ready, and he could not wait.

He took her with a desperate ferocity that had Sarah crying out against the invasion of his mouth and the rigid length of him that drove into her. Sarah moaned against the curve of his neck at the way he filled her, each thrust assaulting her still-tender flesh that gave way in slick surrender. The heat between them built and built, each movement of his hips taking her closer to the edge. There would be bruises in the morning, but at the moment, Sarah did not care.

His mouth on hers, Jareth ran his hands down her body, loving the way she moved beneath him with her head flung back to expose her white throat. He could taste himself on her lips, salt, musk and desire, and the memory of her taking all of him was nearly enough to make him lose control again. The half-healed scratches on his back reopened and bled freely even as she locked her legs tighter around his waist. Raising her hips off the floor, he thrust even more deeply into the moist heat of her, drawing out each one to make it last.

"Gods..." he whispered breathlessly against her skin. "Sarah..."

Their second mating was a war of aggression and desire, and it seemed that Jareth's worst fear had come true... the fire consumed them both.

* * *

Afterward, he would not be separated from her, would not allow her to leave the protection of his body. Jareth buried his face in her neck against the damp tangle of her hair, murmuring her name and other sentiments that had no words. He'd come close to losing her again, and despite all his strength, the pain was nearly unbearable. _And it won't be the last time..._

Sarah didn't move, not minding the solid weight of him on her. She was utterly drained, so tired that her thoughts skipped like a stone across a pond, leaving ever widening-circles rippling across the water. Love, betrayal, redemption, forgiveness... The ideas all ran together in her mind until she could not distinguish one from another, and the words lost all meaning.

She could hate what he'd done, but she could forgive him.

She could love him, because she had no other choice.

In the beginning, she'd wanted to hurt him as he'd hurt her, see that he bled and suffered. She'd wanted to see that he paid for his crimes, to exact her pound of flesh and spare her heart the bitter misery of wanting him always. But it was all one and the same, Sarah saw that now. They were irrevocably bound and always would be.

She wanted to tell Jareth what she knew, make him see that she understood. Sarah touched his shoulder, tried to say his name. But her tongue was numb and she had no words, then the darkness rolled over her and she knew nothing more.

* * *

"Sarah." 

Jareth's voice was insistent, calling her out of sleep. She wanted to stay where she was, sink further into the delicious softness of the mattress until the sun crept over the bed. But he touched her, stroked the palm of her hand. A tingling warmth drove the fatigue from her limbs, chased the fog from her mind until she opened her eyes.

The Goblin King sat by the side of the bed, his expression dark with concern. He smoothed back her hair, spread loosely over the pillow. She smiled at him, raised herself slightly and found she was wearing a cool linen shift.

"I've brought you something to eat."

He fed her himself, bread and milk, a russet-skinned apple he peeled and sliced with a sharp silver knife. Sarah could not remember the last time she'd eaten, but she had little appetite. Jareth had none of his usual sharp banter. In fact, he barely spoke at all except to offer her more food or drink, all solicitous attention.

She frowned. He was handling her like she was made of glass, and it was not like him. Sarah caught the Goblin King's sleeve and forced him to look at her.

"What's wrong with me?" She saw now that he was tense with worry, and it frightened her.

"Nothing is wrong."

Instinctively, she knew it was a lie. There was no clock in the room to mark the passage of time, and she could not tell by the slant of light through the chamber window. She struggled to sit up a little further.

"How long have I slept?"

Jareth set aside the knife and did not look her in the eye. "Two days and two nights."

"Two days..." Sarah could barely speak. "Why didn't you wake me before?"

"I tried. It could not be done." Jareth touched her cheek and she could see the faint lines etched at the corners of his eyes. "I do not think it is safe for you here, Sarah, and my protection may not be enough."

Shaken, she could only listen.

Jareth struggled to find the words. "The king and the kingdom are one. It's not a riddle," he said, heading off her questions, "It simply _is_. One cannot live without the other. I was a long time learning this lesson, and it nearly destroyed everything I had."

"But it didn't." said Sarah. "You said you would be all right."

"And I will be. Only..." Jareth struggled to find the words. "Understand, Sarah. It may be the other half of me, but I don't control it. The Labyrinth has no memory or malice. It does not understand emotion, it only understands survival. But it _wanted_ to be whole and it knew you were the key even if I did not. I should have guarded against it, but I failed to do so."

Jareth did not break from her gaze while he spoke, and she could see that he had not slept in the two days and nights she'd lain there.

"Never before has it interfered to turn the course of events the way it has with you. It doesn't do so out of the desire to harm or to help, it seeks only to sustain itself. The Labyrinth feeds off dreams... and dreamers. It will never have enough. You are the catalyst. It needs you, and it will take you if you allow it. I cannot stop it, Sarah."

Sarah held up a shaking hand. "Is it doing this to me? Draining me, like--"

She did not finish, but Jareth understood what she meant. He folded her in a hard embrace. _I've never wanted anything more than you..._

"I am sorry, love. You cannot stay here in the Underground. You must go back."

* * *

Sir Didymus was proving to be a most feisty patient, and the goblin physician had long washed his hands of him. Wrapped in a blue and gold satin robe and propped up in his bed with half a dozen fat pillows, the little knight ruled over this tiny kingdom like a beloved tyrant. Goblins waited on him hand and foot and tribute in the form of several stout barrels of rhum sat in the corner. A fresh bouquet of flowers nestled in a vase on the sunny windowsill, and a fruit basket larger than Sir Didymus himself was proudly displayed within easy reach. 

He was not yet allowed to stir from his bed and Hoggle had been running around nonstop, gathering news and gossip. As he pulled up a chair next to Didymus' sickbed, another goblin scurried up to fill the fox's waterglass and stuff another well-plumped pillow behind his head. Didymus gave a gracious nod of thanks and turned to his visitor.

"And what did His Majesty tell her?"

Hoggle shrugged in bewilderment. "All he said was that she couldn't stay."

"Ah." Sir Didymus popped a purple grape in his mouth and chewed thoughtfully.

"I suppose it's for the best," said Hoggle uncertainly. "She has a family and all, she'll want to return to them."

The little knight spat out a mouthful of grape skins, but said nothing.

"We all knew she couldn't stay here forever... with him. No mortal ever has."

"Indeed not," agreed Didymus, rolling around grape around in his cheek. "Living here too long changes you."

The dwarf rubbed his hands together awkwardly. "Er, yes. All the same, I thought... Well, surely there are always exceptions, and they did look happy. He really does seem to..."

He coughed awkwardly and his voice trailed off, not liking the gleam in Sir Didymus' eye that might've been an _I told you so_, had his friend been less than a paragon of chivalrous knighthood.

"My lady has saved the Labyrinth, as we hoped she would. Perhaps her job here is done, and perhaps it is time for her to go."

"That can't be the way the story ends! If Sarah has to go back and she never sees him again, it'll break her heart. You didn't see the way she looked at him and he at her. You know I'm not much of a one for this mushy stuff, but it was like... Like they were the only two people in the world."

The little knight nodded and took a sip of water while his friend watched in growing aggravation.

"Well, what do you have to say for yourself?" Hoggle demanded at last. "You've always been the soft-headed romantic around here. I thought for sure you'd have found some loophole so your beloved king can have his happy ending."

"My dear fellow," said Sir Didymus with regret, "There's no such thing as happily ever after."

* * *

They stood at the window so Sarah could see all the changes wrought in the Labyrinth from afar. The river was just as beautiful as it had been in her dreams, shining blue-silver in the sunlight, a rough stone bridge spanning the waters. Here and there she could see goblins rebuilding their cottages, and the rose garden had begun to bloom anew. Wildflowers sprouted up in odd corners of the courtyard, and she could see Ambrosius chasing butterflies on the riverbank. Everything had changed, the whole world was starting over. 

"I wish you could see it, our kingdom."

Jareth steadied her on his arm, his hand in hers and his eyes bright. She felt stronger with him near, and Sarah knew it was no coincidence. She could detect the thin line of energy he fed her, a constant flow that kept the empty feeling at bay and allowed her to feel like herself again, if only for a little while. Jareth did not mention it, but she could not let him do it forever.

She squeezed his hand. "At least I got to see more of it this time around." she said, smiling.

"Not just this part of it near the castle, and not even just the Silverwood." His thoughts were far away. "There are so many wild and lovely places I would've liked to show you."

Regret stung her throat just a little, and she did not want to pretend anymore. "How much time do I have left?"

Jareth folded her in his arms. "Time enough to say goodbye."

* * *

The room felt like the center of the world. Sitting on Jareth's throne with her arms resting on its curiously curved sides, Sarah could close her eyes and feel all of the Underground like a fine network of energy pulsing from her fingertips. All the hidden catacombs and tunnels were known to her, the dark oubliettes like forgotten tombs buried deep in the earth. She could follow the Merandanon's flow as it spilled through the green hills, feel the rebuilding of the Labyrinth walls as they went up again, stone by stone. And far away in the Silverwood stood a gray-timbered cottage with a mossy stone roof, waiting quietly for its owner's return. 

Sarah wondered if this is how Jareth felt all the time, as aware of the land and its rhythms as he was with his own body. It was magnificent and exhausting at the same time, this constant pull at her as the Labyrinth fed off who she was and what she could be. Again her hands shook, and Sarah clutched at the arms of the throne to overcome the sudden dizziness that overtook her. It was a grim reminder that while the Goblin King could feed and be fed off this living land, she could not. There was nothing for her here.

Saddened, she opened her eyes, looking over the gathered crowd of inquisitive goblins and her friends, both of them standing hat in hand and suddenly shy.

"My lady," said Sir Didymus, bowing as best he could with his midsection heavily bandaged. "I have always said that thou art as brave as thou art beautiful."

Hoggle cleared his throat several times before he could speak. A brand new handkerchief peeked out from his back pocket, and he looked like he might need it before long.

"You won't wait so long this time to call us. " he said gruffly, "We'll always be there."

"I won't make the mistake of forgetting about you again." promised Sarah.

"See that you don't."

She glanced to where Jareth stood at a discreet distance, his eyes fixed on her always.

"We will look after him for you, my lady," whispered the little knight. "Never fear."

Sarah smiled through her tears. "Thank you, Sir Didymus. I do believe... he might need it. No matter what he says."

* * *

He took her to the king's tower, where they stood on the balcony outside his bedchamber. Below them, the Labyrinth's serpentine walls were hung with a misty veil of pale green as leafy buds burst open. A cool wind blew in from over the river, and the sun was reaching its peak in the sky. All around them, brilliant color spilled across the landscape as if from a painter's palette. _Nowhere does the sunlight look like this,_ thought Sarah with growing sadness. _I'll never see anything like it for as long as I live._

"Will I see you again?" she asked him.

Jareth put his arms around her. "I will always be there."

"That's not what I meant." Sarah pulled back from him. "Tell me the truth, Jareth."

"I cannot live in your world, Sarah. But I will always answer you when you call."

"But you won't be able to stay."

"No."

Sarah looked down at her hands, one gripping the other so hard her knuckles were white. She glanced up and tried to smile. "Then it really is goodbye. I thought fairy tales were supposed to have a happy ending."

"Sarah, I promise you, if there is a way..." 

"... you will find it." she finished for him.

Jareth's eyes were bright as he leaned in and kissed her, lingering as long as he could. "I always do as you ask."

Sarah smiled again, but had to turn away. She told herself that the dazzling sun was to blame for the tears that blurred her vision. _You will not cry,_ she told herself fiercely. _You won't. This is not the end. _She prayed Jareth would not touch her now, that he would not pull her into his arms, or her resolve would break and all would be lost.

He did not touch her. She heard him pace the stone walkway, and if she closed her eyes, Sarah could picture him leaning on the edge of the balcony, looking out over the Labyrinth. That was the way she would always picture him when he was gone. That hollow pain seized her again and she fought to push it down. Then she realized he'd been calling her name.

She wiped her face on her sleeve and turned. "What is it?"

Jareth stood before her, smiling that slightly crooked smile he had that made Sarah hold her breath. He looked the same as he did when she'd first seen him, standing in the nursery with the curtains fluttering in the wind behind him and the air glittering with the light of a thousand stars.

_Through dangers untold and hardships unnumbered..._

They'd been through it all, and they were still there. _Amor vincit omnia__.  
_

The Goblin King gestured in the air and out of nowhere appeared a ripe peach. He held it out to her with a quirk of his elegant eyebrow. "It's a present." 

Sarah wasn't sure whether she wanted to laugh or to cry. She crossed her arms. "You can't be serious."

He moved nearer, stroking her face with his bare hand, so close she could not think.

"Sarah, don't you trust me?"

Sarah could still feel his kiss burning upon her lips. "No."

Jareth laughed. He threw the peach into the air and lightly caught it again, then took a bite, keeping his gaze locked with hers. Sarah eyed him suspiciously. The Goblin King gave her another crooked little smile, and pulled her close, hands buried in her hair. His lips were warm and tasted of summer and spice with the juices of the peach mingling sweet in his mouth. It robbed her of breath and yet it was nearly chaste, a coming together that flared with the heat of a distant fire, carefully contained.

When the kiss ended, Jareth did not let go. They stood there for a long time, Sarah folded in the sheltering circle of his arms. Tears stung her eyelids, and she brushed them away on the front of his shirt.

"I don't think I can do this. I'm not strong enough to leave you."

Jareth did not answer right away, only let out the barest of sighs. Stroking her hair, he bent to whisper in her ear.

"Sometimes," he said, "The way forward is the way back."

Sarah felt him tremble, and she started to push away. "What? Wait, don't--"

The world around them began to spin and the ground vanished from beneath their feet. Sarah was falling, the air rushing past her at a dizzying speed and Jareth's cloak fluttering about them like bat's wings. She could see the whole universe, spinning planets and fiery stars, bright moons dancing in their ancient and eternal orbits...

"I'm not ready," she cried. "Just wait..."

The Goblin King's lips brushed her temple ever so lightly.

"Don't forget me, my Sarah."

And then he let her go.

* * *

The stars winked out one by one leaving her in darkness, and in vain she reached for the light that was no longer there. Around her, the air lost its springlike warmth and grew cold as winter. It rushed past her now nipping at her skin like needles and Sarah thought she might never be warm again. But with every passing second, she felt stronger, as if a great weight had been lifted from her and the burden scattered to the winds. But there was a great price to be paid for this healing, and she had paid it. 

Sarah could calculate down to the very moment that she'd lost him. One minute he was there, the next, Jareth was gone as if he had never been.

* * *

"Sarah." 

The voice was unfamiliar at first, like the light that slanted through the window, filtering through the curtains and casting its narrow beam across her bed. Sarah groaned and pulled the covers up over her head. A galloping horse with a rider all in black, a forest where trees were the pillars of heaven... A king with eyes like the winter sky. Still half-asleep, she murmured something unintelligible. It was such a wonderful dream. If she could just hand on to it a little longer...

"I can let you sleep in if you'd like, but Toby's getting impatient to open his presents, and Karen's made breakfast. Blueberry pancakes, your favorite."

Sarah blinked in confusion. "Dad?"

Her father laughed a little. "Who else did you think it would be?"

He knelt by the bed. "Seriously, sweetheart, I came up to see if you're feeling all right. Still under the weather, maybe?"

"No..." Sarah pulled the covers down, but kept her face to the wall. "I mean... I guess I feel okay."

Feeling her forehead, her father frowned a bit.

"Well, you're not running a fever. Tell you what, take your time, I'll keep Toby busy. We can open presents after breakfast."

Hearing the door shut quietly, Sarah sat up and looked around her room. Everything looked so... ordinary. Neatly propped on the nightstand was the Labyrinth book. A glance at the window sill at the potted plant showed her nothing but a withered bit of vegetation that could have been anything. All the magic was gone.

If it hadn't been for the taste of ripe peaches lingering in her lips, Sarah would've doubted any of it had happened at all. Slipping out of her flannel pajamas, she quickly examined herself. On her right thigh was a circular scar, the slightly puckered skin shiny and white as if it had been there for years.

Quickly pulling on her clothes, Sarah went to her vanity and peered at her reflection in the mirror. Nothing had changed. Everything had changed. She touched her cheek, remembering the heat of his hand on her skin.

_I will never forget..._

* * *

_**Author's Notes: **At last! I had no idea the story would be this long when I started writing it, and while it was a lot of fun to do, it's a relief to have it come to a close, too. I hope you liked it, and thank you to everyone who stuck through until the end-- especially those of you who were so kind and supportive, offering your frank feedback and cheering me up when I needed it. You know who you are.  
_

_Comments/reviews welcome._

_Oh. I suppose I should mention that there is an epilogue...  
_


	28. Epilogue

_**Author's Note: **Yes, there is an epilogue. However, the story does stand well enough on its own, so if you liked the bittersweet ending of the last chapter, then please feel free to skip this, it's definitely not necessary to the story.  
_

**

* * *

**

**Epilogue**

It was the first day of the new year, and Sarah Williams sat on the floor of her dorm room, a pile of textbooks lying forgotten beside her. Christmas morning had come and gone in a flurry of bright paper and ribbon, and she'd spent days pretending to a happiness she did not feel. In the end, she'd made her excuses to her family, ignoring the twinges of guilt at Toby's crestfallen expression and promising to call. But she could not stay.

It was all too immediate and painful, for everything at home reminded her of where she had been... So she packed her bags and went back to school, back to her books and the solitude. It would be her refuge, just as it had been the first time. Sarah leaned back against the edge of her bed, listening. The halls were empty, the other students gone, and there was nothing but the sound of the ancient heating system grumbling in the background. It was just the way she wanted it.

At midnight, Sarah walked by herself through the streets, silent and deserted under a blanket of snow. She knew the way by heart, had walked it many times on her way to class-- a winding path through the wooded heart of the campus along a frozen stream. A few streetlamps cast dim pools of light against the darkness, and all around her the bare tree limbs were black and twisted against the distant stars.

Cutting through the woods, she emerged in front of the library and the fountain square that lay before it. The fountain had been turned off, but someone had neglected to drain the water and a thin sheet of ice lay on the surface like black glass. Sarah brushed the snow off the marble edge and sat down, drawing her knees up to her chest. She'd always thought this fountain gaudy, its rubenesque Venus reclining half on her side with arms raised above her head. Love was a lot of things, Sarah thought. She could see none of them in this goddess' face, eerily impassive by starlight and all cool emotion and reserve. She wished it could be so easy, then perhaps she wouldn't have this raw, ragged-edged hole inside of her.

It had been nearly seven days to the very hour since it all began on that sleepless night, and Sarah had not called her friends. She thought about it each time she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror, but she couldn't show them this new Sarah with her haunted expression and dark circles beneath her eyes. The dire dreams were gone but she could not sleep, not even in the safety of her dorm room where there were few reminders of home to distract her. The alien silence begged to be filled with something... anything. Sarah had nothing to fill it.

_I want him. More than anything, I want him. _But as she looked up at Venus' bland visage gleaming dully in the light, Sarah knew that wanting something-- even very, very badly-- was not enough.

The clock would not strike the hour, not at this time of night, but Sarah thought it must be nearly one in the morning. She realized how long she'd been sitting there on the stone bench, and she was nearly numb with cold. Winding her scarf a little tighter around her nose and chin, she began the long walk home. School would begin in a few weeks, and she would have the dorms to herself until then. _Alone._ It was little comfort and as Sarah neared home, she drew up the collar of her jacket, thrusting her hands deep into her pockets.

Something with hard edges met her fingers. It was a small book of sonnets she'd bought the day before at a bookstore downtown, a glorious maze of ramshackle shelves and teetering piles of books in every corner. She had bought it for the satiny leather cover and worn gilt edgings, not trusting herself to read its contents just yet. But she took it out now just to have something to hold onto. In the feeble light of the streetlamp outside her dorm, Sarah held the book open, letting the icy wind flutter its nearly translucent pages. Her eyes fell upon a passage in faded ink:

_Love is not love  
Which alters when it alteration finds,  
Or bends with the remover to remove:  
O no! it is an ever-fixed mark  
That looks on tempests and is never shaken..._

Sarah let the book fall in the drifts of snow at her feet and fled back inside the building.

* * *

Back in her room with the door shut behind her, she shed her coat and scarf, flinging them on the chair. She would see him again someday, behind the mirror's reflection. But it would not be the same, it would be... _Bittersweet. _That's how her life would be from now on,stolen moments that would never be enough. Sarah threw herself on the bed, intending to bury herself under the covers and have a good cry since no one was there to hear. But a little parcel on her nightstand caught her eye.

Sarah looked around. Her door was locked, there was no other way of gaining entrance to her second-story room except the window. Nothing had been disturbed, and there was no sign that anyone had been there at all... except the bundle wrapped in gold cloth tied with a dark blue ribbon.

Sarah picked it up as if it would bite her at any moment. A folded slip of parchment was attached to it, and written in an old-fashioned, flowing hand was a message that simply read, "For My Lady."

Hands shaking, Sarah opened it. Something heavy and metallic suspended on a soft leather cord dropped into her palm, warm to the touch as if someone had been carrying next to his body. At first, she didn't recognize it. It was silver, a strange triangular shape with two curved prongs. In the center was a gold disc engraved with intricate knotwork in a pattern she'd seen before. She caught her breath. _Of course..._

Sarah couldn't remember the last time she'd seen him wearing it, but she should've known it was Jareth's from the moment she touched it. It seemed to almost pulse in her hand, humming with the resonance of a distant song. She slipped the cord over her head, and from far, far away, she thought she heard the faint chime of a golden bell.

She did not dare to hope, because she had none left to spare. But when Sarah looked out her window into the snowy night, she could see in her mind's eye a kingdom where spring still reigned and a maze of walls stretched on and on, the stone gleaming the color of straw in the incomparable sunlight...

Sarah closed her fingers around the pendant, too dizzy to think. "I wish..."

She didn't even have to complete the sentence aloud. The door of her room flew open with a violent crash, and Sarah was hammered by whirling winds that nearly knocked her over. Under her feet, the floor began to shudder and buckle and a cold spike of fear clenched in her stomach. Had she made a mistake? The dim light of her nightstand grew brighter and brighter until Sarah had to close her eyes against it or be blinded. The last thing she heard was a great roar like a tidal wave, a wall of sound barreling swiftly toward her...

Then the world fell down.

* * *

She was standing in the doorway of a chamber. A glass-domed roof opened up to a brilliant night sky with so many stars that the room was bathed in their silvery light, and a fire burned in the hearth. In the center of the room was a bed draped with white silk, and as she stepped in the room, the sleeping figure that lay on it stirred restlessly.

Lying on his side with one hand tucked beneath his head, the Goblin King looked like a fallen angel, lashes dark on his pale cheek. She knelt by the bed, touching a strand of his hair that lay against his pillow. Sarah leaned quite close.

"Beloved," she murmured against his lips.

He woke with a start, his voice rough with sleep. "Sarah."

Jareth didn't seem at all surprised to see her. He sat up slowly, face worn with grief. "This... This is a dream."

Sarah touched the spot where his shirt had slipped down over his shoulder, a white ring that scarred his skin. He caught her hand and pressed his lips against her palm, his eyes never leaving her face.

"It doesn't matter,' he said in a broken whisper, "If this is all I'm to have, I won't say no. If this is only a dream, so be it."

Sarah's answering smile was like the sun. "If this a dream, then I don't want to wake up."

His embrace was swift and crushing. Sarah found herself wrapped up in the sheets and not caring when they slid off the bed onto the floor. She worked her way out of the tangle, laughing and breathless as she fell back into Jareth's arms.

"Now I know this is real. I never would've dreamed anything so clumsy."

His gaze fell upon the pendant around her neck, which shone with the radiance of a captured sun. Jareth fingered the leather cord that lay against the delicate ridge of her collarbone. This was where it belonged, something of his to lie near her skin always.

Sarah covered his hand with her own. "I found the way back."

The Goblin King could feel the talisman attune itself to the beat of her heart, sustaining that bright energy that poured from her like the light through a break in the clouds. As long as Sarah wore it, she would be his. Time and distance would not separate them, though they existed in worlds apart. And as yet there might come a day...

Jareth's thoughts trailed off. He could not speak to her of that hoped-for time just yet, but the Goblin King saw two thrones, a slender figure all in white by his side, and a crown of stars. This dream he would keep to himself, and it would not be forgotten.

He held Sarah close.

_Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,  
But bears it out even to the edge of doom._

"It will be hard for you, beloved... moving between the worlds. No mortal has ever done it."

"No mortal has ever loved as I do."

The Goblin King held his breath. Her response was impulsive, but the truth. Mortal hearts were such fragile things, mutable and short-lived as butterflies. _If one day she should change her mind..._ But great reward only came with great risk, and Jareth knew better than most what chances a man could take... and how far he could fall.

His throat constricted, but he forced himself to answer playfully. "And how long will your love bind you to me?"

"Forever." Her voice was muffled in his chest.

The echo of her words seemed to hang in the air long after she'd spoken, but the chamber was silent save for the sound of a log settling in the fire. The Goblin King smiled, slow and secretive. It was a promise, and queens--like kings-- must keep their promises. Jareth pulled back to look at her, snared in those eyes, moss-green and gold.

"Forever is a long time." he replied at last.

Sarah shook her head. "It's not long at all."

**The End**

**

* * *

**

_ Poem quotations taken from William Shakespeare's immortal sonnet 116: "Let me not to the marriage of true minds admit impediments..."  
_

_**Author's Notes: **Thank you everyone, for all your comments and for reading along. This has been so much fun, and I plan to continue writing Labyrinth fanfics if I possibly can, although I also would like to work on some original material for publication after this, too._

_For everyone who asked about a sequel, have you read __**The Forgotten Dream** one-shot yet? If your answer is no, then hah, don't you dare tease me about a sequel until you have, you incorrigible imps! In all seriousness, there is no sequel in the works at this point in time, so that one-shot might be as close as you get. Sorry, guys. However, I do have ideas for other Labyrinth stories rattling around in my head, and hopefully those will find their way onto here as well. _


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